Maybe This Christmas
by Maxie Kay
Summary: Peace on earth? Goodwill to all men? Not exactly... Christmas get complicated for Kensi. And don't even mention New Year to Callen and Deeks. Surely 2012 had to be an improvement - didn't it?
1. Chapter 1

**Maybe this Christmas**

An NCIS: Los Angeles FanFiction

By

Maxie Kay

"Wow. Flannel pyjamas." Deeks quirked one eyebrow. "Pink flannel pyjamas. With Oreos on them?" He gave Kensi a curious look.

"They're pandas," Kensi said shortly.

"Of course they are." There was a certain familiar and rather smug smile on his face as he breezed past Kensi and went straight to her kitchen, which was in its normal state of chaos, with empty take-out boxes cluttering most of the counter space. The rest was covered with a fine assortment of dirty dishes.

She shut the door and dashed after him. "What are you doing here?" There was a decidedly tetchy tone to her voice, which was that of a woman who has been rudely awakened and is conscious that not only is she not exactly looking at her best, but also that her house looks as if a bomb has hit it. Or that it is inhabited by a teenager who is still going through the semi-feral stage and has not yet re-entered the human race.

"Making you breakfast. At least I was going to. Only you don't have any eggs." Deeks was peering into the refrigerator. "How come you don't have any eggs?" Kensi didn't seem to have much in the way of food, period. Other than half-full boxes of Chinese food. He tried not to look too closely at a cartoon of noodles that was so old it looked like it would soon be celebrating its birthday. Was it his imagination or was something in there moving? If there was any justice in the world, then Kensi's kitchen would be labelled a biological hazard zone and only people wearing barrier masks and protective breathing equipment would be allowed in.

"Maybe because I didn't buy any." Kensi pushed him to one side and shut the fridge door firmly before he could notice that the milk had gone off a couple of days ago and was well on the way to becoming yogurt. "What are you doing here, Deeks? It's Christmas morning."

"I know that," he said patiently. "I thought I'd cook you breakfast before we go in. As a treat." He smiled winningly at her.

"What do you mean 'go in'? Go in where?" Her patience was hanging by a thread; a very fine thread. One which might snap at any moment. Deeks was trying at the best of times, but first thing in the morning was definitely pushing it.

"Go in to work. I told Hetty I'd swing by and pick you up." Deeks shoved a pile of pizza boxes to one side and seated himself comfortably on the counter top, swinging his legs idly back and forth. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I live here." If there were prizes for being annoying, Deeks would be at the head of the queue.

"You said you were going away," Deeks reminded her. "And you were being very cagey about the location. So how come you're still here – and wearing these cute pj's? I always had you down as the sort of girl who'd wear a little satin number. You know the type – real short, with spaghetti straps?"

"I know your type," Kensi said darkly. "And I'm not that sort of girl."

"You could be."

"No, I couldn't be. I definitely couldn't be. Because I' not your sort of girl – I've got taste, just for a start. And don't tell me about how you could see me in something like that."

"Okay – I won't tell you."

"And don't bother thinking it either. You're not allowed to think things like that."

"It's a free country." Deeks let a slow smile creep across his face and watched with interest as Kensi clenched her hands into fists. "You said you were going away," he reminded her.

"I didn't go."

"I can see that. So come on – 'fess up. It's good for the soul, they say. Tell me all about it."

"So I like flannel pjs? It's not a crime, is it?"

Actually, Deeks thought, it probably was. Especially those ones. Where had she got them from? And why would any adult in their right mind buy them? Those pandas were halfway towards mutating into Oreo cookies – and not in a good way. And who the hell wore flannel pyjamas in LA? Didn't all normal people sleep in the nude?

"That's not what I mean, and you know that." He waggled his finger in front of her nose and Kensi had this sudden urge to bite it, very hard. Possibly hard enough to draw blood, only then she'd have to go by the hospital and get rabies shots.

"All I know is that I was asleep and then you woke me up. End of story."

"Come on – that's not the end. And it's certainly not the beginning. You said you were going away. And yet you're here. So what happened?"

"Nothing happened, alright? I just didn't go. I decided to stay home, that's all. I changed my mind. Like you said, it's a free country." Kensi glared at him. "You might be my partner, Deeks, but that doesn't give you any right to poke and pry into my private life. Understand?"

"Message received, loud and clear. Over and out." He jumped back down off the counter. "See you later."

Kensi looked at him in astonishment. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Into work." Deeks gave her a long and uncompromising look. "Like I said, Hetty called us in. So I'm going."

"Give me ten minutes and I'll be ready." Kensi pushed past him and dashed towards her bedroom.

"Merry Christmas, by the way," Deeks called.

Kensi set a new record for getting dressed, beating her all-time record by over a minute. The prospect of Deeks walking in was a powerful incentive for speed. She muttered under her breath the whole time. Did Deeks actively plan new ways of getting under her skin, or was he just naturally talented that way? Grabbing her toothbrush, Kensi scrubbed away at her teeth and tried not to look at the shelf where Deeks' Christmas present sat, mutely accusing her. Okay, so maybe she should have said something to him – only she hadn't. Maybe she should have got Deeks a present too – only she hadn't.

Damn the man. This was all his fault. He'd caught her at her worst, and seen how she didn't even have any cards up in her apartment, far less a tree. And then to go poking around in her fridge like that – like he owned the place, or something. Who did Deeks think he was? Just because her was her partner, that didn't give him any rights to go prying in to her life – her private life.

Kensi had stoked her inner fire of righteous indignation up to white hot levels by the time she was ready and stormed out of the room, ready to give him hell. So this was the season of peace on earth and goodwill to all men? So what. Deeks had forfeited all rights the moment he'd invaded her privacy.

"Deeks?"

The living room was empty. Surely even Deeks would have more tact than to start clearing up the mess in her kitchen? She went to check, just to be sure, even though the silence was deafening.

"Deeks? Get your butt out here. Now." Kensi waited ten seconds, counting under her breath. "Deeks?"

Great. First he barged in here, and then he sauntered off. What was it with Deeks? Was he deliberately trying to get her riled up? He'd be sitting out there in the car, listening to some awful music, and wearing that patient, long-suffering expression - the one he knew really annoyed her. Only he wasn't. Deeks' car was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

><p>The Mission was virtually deserted: Kensi could tell that just from the near-empty status of the parking lot. It made sense, given that it was Christmas Day and NCIS was running on a skeleton staff. They were waiting for her in Ops – Hetty, Eric and Nell. And Deeks, of course. That went without saying.<p>

"How nice of you to join us, Ms Blye." Hetty could always manage to instill a note of reproach into even the most innocuous sounding statement.

"I thought Deeks was waiting for me." Kensi went over to stand beside him, but was careful to keep enough distance between them so that she wouldn't be tempted to thump him. That could wait until later – when there weren't any witnesses.

"I thought you wanted me to leave you well enough alone," Deeks countered blandly. He'd clearly been spending way too much time with Hetty for comfort.

"I was supposed to be on leave. And I said I was going away." Kensi looked at Hetty, wanting an explanation.

"And yet you're still here." It was said in an undertone and Kensi was pretty sure Deeks didn't move his lips.

"The GPS on your phone indicated you were at home. So I took the liberty of asking Mr Deeks to drop by to ascertain the situation."

"I might have left it behind," Kensi prevaricated.

"And yet you didn't." Deeks had that innocent expression on his face now: the wide-eyed one that never fooled Kensi for a second, because it always meant he was up to something.

"Where are Sam and Callen?" Kensi said, changing the subject and looking around, as if she expected to see them hiding under the table.

"Mr Hanna is at home with his family. And Mr Callen is with him."

"How come we're here and they get to stay at home?" Kensi was just about ready to fight with her own shadow.

"Because I decided that they were surplus to requirements. We all have places we would rather be today. And people we would rather be with."

"Ain't that the truth." Kensi couldn't help it: the words just came out without thinking. There were some people she'd rather not be with, and at the very top of that list was one Marty Deeks.

Deeks gave her a hurt look. "I had places to be too. And afterwards, Monty and I were looking forward to a walk on the beach," he said, managing to sound noble and self-sacrificing. At the mention of his name, there was an answering bark.

"Don't tell me you brought Monty in?"

"Okay, I won't."

Kensi tried very hard to ignore the clicking of claws on the floor. "You brought a dog into work?" Only Deeks would do something like that.

"I couldn't leave him at home. What kind of person wants to spend Christmas all alone?"

"The kind of person who wears flannel pyjamas with Oreos on them?" Eric suggested slyly.

"One: they are pandas. Two: some people should learn when to keep their mouths shut. And three: Monty is not a person – he's a dog." There was something nudging at her thigh and Kensi just hoped it was Monty.

"You had to go and ruin everything, didn't you, Kensi? You know how sensitive Monty is. Next thing you'll be telling him there's no such thing as Santa Claus." Deeks bent down so that his face was next to the dog's. "Don't you listen to her – you're Daddy's boy, aren't you?"

"And an honorary member of the team," Hetty said.

There were times when Kensi wished she was part of another team: one where she didn't have an annoying partner and a dog who only listened to talk radio. This looked like it was shaping up to be the worst Christmas ever.


	2. Chapter 2

"What is Monty wearing?" If you couldn't beat them, then you might as well join them, Kensi reckoned. The dog was never going to win any prizes for pet of the year, but right now he had gone from homely to downright ugly.

"His Christmas sweater," Deeks replied, as if this was only too obvious.

"Who gives a dog a Christmas sweater? And a really ugly sweater at that."

"My Mom," Nell said shortly. "She knits them herself. It's kind of a tradition in our family." She gave Kensi a hurt look and then went over to give Monty a consoling pat.

Kensi did a double-take, and realised that everyone in Ops, from Monty, right through Hetty, Nell and Eric, in fact right up to and including Deeks, were all wearing matching sweaters. Horrible, tacky sweaters. It was like she'd slipped into the Twilight Zone.

"You didn't have that on earlier." She looked at Deeks accusingly.

Deeks shook his head. "I did too. I also had my jacket on." He smiled at Nell. "Everyone at the shelter thought it was great. And that huge parcel of hats and scarves your Mom sent are amazing. They're going to make a real difference to a lot of people this year."

"You were at the shelter? When?" Last year, they had gone there together, Kensi remembered. And Deeks had been greeted as an old friend by the other volunteers.

"Yesterday – after the party. You can't just provide a Christmas meal for hundreds of people out of the blue. There's a lot of prep work to be done."

"Which is why we went along with Deeks." Eric swivelled his chair around to look at her. "To do our bit."

By this stage, Kensi was feeling about two inches tall. Not to mention the odd one out. "Did your Mom knit sweaters for Callen and Sam too, Nell?"

"Of course she did." Nell knew exactly what Kensi was up to. "Like I said, it's a tradition."

"The one she gave me last year was great when I went skiing." Deeks added a little more fuel to the fire, just to make sure it kept blazing merrily away. "Lots of people admired it."

Kensi wondered if their seeing-eye dogs went skiing too, or if they merely hung around for the after-ski.

"Perhaps we should get a team photograph – all of us in our 'Jones Family' Christmas sweaters. I'm sure Director Vance would appreciate that." Hetty actually appeared to like her sweater, as she kept stroking it admiringly. It was the first time Kensi could recall Hetty wearing anything other than a tailored suit and the effect was oddly disconcerting. As was the fact that she had teamed her sweater, which was tunic length, with a pair of black leggings and ankle boots, revealing a pair of very shapely legs. Who would have thought that Hetty actually had legs in the first place, far less good ones?

"This is a wind-up, isn't it?" Kensi gave Hetty a pleading look, very conscious that she was the only person who was not wearing a garish blue sweater with a diamond pattern on it. "There isn't really a case and you went out and bought those sweaters for everyone, didn't you?"

"There is indeed and we most certainly did not." Hetty looked thoroughly disgruntled. "You don't seem to be full of the Christmas spirit today." Clearly her observational skills were working as well as ever.

"Maybe if I had a Christmas sweater I might be a bit more cheery?" Kensi wondered what she was supposed to be doing – carolling _'Adeste Fideles'_ while dispensing mulled wine and roast chestnuts, perhaps? Right now she would gladly roast Deeks' nuts – preferably while they were still attached to him. Scooge was right when he had said 'Bah, humbug' to Christmas. If she had been in his shoes, then Kensi would have snapped Tiny Tim's crutches, put them on the fire and toasted her hands at the flames.

"Did you like the present Deeks gave you?" Nell asked, with a decidedly snappish tone to her voice. "Have you used it yet? And what did you give him?"

The answers were easy: yes, no and nothing. Anyway she tried to spin it, Kensi was not going to come out smelling like roses, or even jojoba, so she decided that it was better to say nothing at all.

Taking her silence as tacit confirmation, Nell continued remorselessly. "Exactly. I knew you wouldn't like my Mom's knitting either, so that's why you didn't get one. Why should she spend hours of her time making something that you're going to laugh at?"

"I didn't mean to hurt you."

"But you did. You were mean. And you were mean to Deeks too."

Kensi swung around to face him. "You had to tell them, didn't you?"

Deeks held his hands up. "Whoa. Back up there. I didn't say anything about this morning. Apart from the bit about the pyjamas, obviously."

"I was talking about yesterday," Nell said with great dignity. "Kidding Deeks on that you were going away and then not even bothering to get him a present. That was mean."

Kensi had to give it to Nell – the girl had a backbone of pure steel. And a slight crush on Deeks. No doubt she had carefully measured him for that hideous sweater her mother had knitted. It had probably taken her several attempts, while she giggled girlishly all the time and complimented him on his muscles. She could just see Deeks standing there, lapping it all up.

Hetty decided that it was time to intervene. If things went much further, then there were about to be purses thrown into the ring, metaphorically speaking. And while she was sure that both Mr Beale and Mr Deeks would have a certain amount of interest in a girl-fight, it was something she really could do without. Miss Jones was small and scrappy, but Kensi would lick the floor with her, and then sent Nell away with her head in her hands to play with. All with one hand tied behind her back. It would only end in tears, Hetty thought, deciding to step into the breach and end things before they reached a point of no return. She briefed them succinctly, and with a minimum of fuss and then separated the warring parties, vowing to deal with the large black dog that Kensi was carrying on her shoulders later on. Something was clearly wrong with her agent, and Hetty would make it her business to find out what it was. Perhaps several glasses of Theakstons might help to loosen her tongue? It was much stronger that American ales, after all.

"I am driving and I am choosing what we listen too." Kensi walked briskly through the almost empty Mission, trying very hard to ignore the fact that Monty was coming too, as witnessed by the clacking of his claws ringing out behind her.

"That's what I love about you, Kensi: these unequivocal, all-inclusive statements. You really know how to work as part of a team, don't you?"

"With you and Monty wearing these matching sweaters, I reckon someone has to take charge and insert a little reason into the proceedings."

"My car has a safety harness for Monty," Deeks volunteered

"Next think you'll be telling me he prefers to ride up front with you."

"Actually…"

"Don't bother, Deeks. Just don't bother. Not one single word out of you that isn't strictly necessary, okay? It's bad enough having to come into work on Christmas Day, without feeling as if I've walked into an episode of the Brady Bunch. Matching sweaters. We're going in my car, and that's the end of it." Kensi stalked across the parking lot at great speed, trying to ignore the fact that Monty was loping along beside her. Thank heavens there wasn't anyone around to see, because the unfortunate animal looked more ridiculous than ever. And as for his master…

"You're just sore because you haven't got a sweater," Deeks said presciently. "Even though, if you did have one, you wouldn't wear it, would you? Nell knew she couldn't win, whatever she did – and she was right."

"That is not the point." Kensi got into her car and started the ignition. Deeks had barely got his ass into the seat before she took off, with Monty giving a yelp of surprise as he was catapulted forward, his nose hitting the back of Deeks' seat.

"Stop right there." Deeks had only ever used that tone of voice a few times in Kensi's hearing – but she knew enough to be wary – very wary indeed, and she reacted instantly, bringing the car to a standstill.

"I don't have a problem with you being mad at me – well, I do, but that's another story. But I do have a problem with you taking it out on Monty." His eyes were blazing cold fire as he turned around to comfort the highly-surprised dog.

"I'm sorry." She felt like hitting her head off the steering wheel. Today had been a complete loss, right from the start. If only life had a rewind button, how much easier things could be: you could just go back, make a few subtle changes and everything would be hunky dory.

"It's not me you should be apologising to." Deeks continued to make a huge fuss of the dog, who seemed to be lapping it up, even if Monty did roll his eyes every time he happened to glance at Kensi. Honestly, they were each as bad as the other.

"You want me to apologise to Monty?"

"You hurt him. He whined." Deeks had his face buried in the dog's fur and he was crooning some nonsense to the mutt.

The silence in the car was deafening. "Okay, I'm sorry, Monty." The world had officially gone mad, Kensi thought. What other explanation could there be for the fact that she was apologising to a dog, who was wearing a jumper that matched the one that Deeks was sporting? Was she the only person left in LA who had a modicum of taste? And talking of taste…

"Michael Buble?" Deeks wrinkled his nose in digust.

"Michael Buble." Kensi turned the sound up a little louder.

They drove in silence, making good time on roads that were quieter than Kensi had ever seen them. Her thoughts started to run back to her father, and how much he had loved Christmas. It had never been the same since he died and each year she dreaded the festivities more and more. But today had hit an all-time low.

Eventually, Deeks heaved a sigh that sounded as if it had right up from his boots. "You must really miss him – on days like these."

"What are you talking about?" Instantly defensive, Kensi was also on her guard. There was no way Deeks could know – was there?

"Dom. Your previous partner."

"I know who Dom is. Was," she corrected. "I'm hardly likely to forget him. I saw him die, remember?"

"No, I don't – because I wasn't there. I never met him. It sounds like he was a nice guy though." The anger was gone now, and it was the old, familiar Deeks sitting beside her once again, giving her a friendly smile, trying to show that they could put things behind them and move. That was one thing about Deeks – he didn't hold a grudge, or sulk. Even if he did have a bad habit of pouting. But Kensi was still thrown off-balance on the rare occasions when his usually affable personality disappeared, to be replaced by this almost-stranger, who burned with a barely controlled ire. "If Dom wasn't shot, then I wouldn't be sitting here right now."

"And Monty wouldn't have a sore nose. I bet you wish we'd never met."

"Monty's fine. And I'll never forget the day I met you. That was the day everything changed." Even without looking, Kensi just knew that Deeks was flashing her a winning grin, like he was trying out for a toothpaste commercial or something.

"When Hetty got her beady little eyes on you, you mean." Given the light traffic, Kensi found it was easy to drive much faster than normal. That was one good thing about Christmas then. Even if all the rest still sucked. "You must rue the day I walked into the gym and Hetty pulled you into NCIS."

"Not really. There are certain compensations." She just knew, without even bothering to glance over, that Deeks was giving her one of his salacious looks. "How about you? Do you wish things were different?"

"Of course I do."

Watching Dom die was something she would never forget. He was so young, so eager – so very inexperienced. But things had changed, and while Kensi would always feel sorrow for Dom, and although Deeks could drive her mad with just a look or a single word, she knew that their partnership was on another level. It was a partnership of equals, where they complimented one another perfectly. Kensi trusted Deeks in a way she had never trusted Dom – she had always felt she had to look out for Dom, to hold his hand in a lot of ways, whereas with Deeks, Kensi knew that he had her back. She felt safe with him. And there was something else, something she could not quite explain, something she purposefully did not think about too much, because it was complicated. Whatever 'it' was. That damned 'thing'. Life with Dom had been a lot simpler – but it hadn't been nearly so much fun. Working with Dom had been like having a kid brother tag along, but with Deeks Kensi knew she had a man at her side, not a boy.

"Thanks. Thanks a lot." Deeks sounded offended, but more than that, Kensi realised he also sounded hurt. Genuinely hurt.

"That's not what I meant. Not at all. Deeks?" The last thing she needed now was yet another misunderstanding, not when they'd finally started to work things out. Kensi turned to look at him and saw a look of horror spread across his face.

"Kensi! Watch out!"

Deeks reached across to grab the steering wheel, trying desperately to get the car out of the path of a car that was swerving towards them, coming straight at them, while at the same time bracing his feet on the floor against the impact that must surely come. Jerked back to reality, Kensi went into automatic mode, acting without thinking and smoothly employing all the techniques she'd learned in a dozen advanced and tactical driving courses, techniques she'd honed to perfection over hours of practical experience. But there were times when you needed more than consummate skill and a powerful car to get out of trouble. Sometimes you needed just a little bit of luck too. The last thing she remembered was the screech of brakes, a pitiful howl from Monty, the concussive impact as the car hit a brick wall and then finally the airbag exploding up towards her. After that, there was sweet oblivion.

* * *

><p>The world was swirling around in a mazy-hued way and the absence of noise was the first thing that Kensi was aware of. Everything seemed very peaceful and very, very quiet. And that was wrong. LA was never quiet – not even on Christmas day. There should have been traffic noise, maybe even the sound of sirens approaching, but not this complete absence of anything.<p>

"You took your time waking up."

It was a relief to hear something at last. For a moment, Kensi had been worried that she'd damaged her hearing in some way. The voice was very familiar, but Kensi couldn't quite place it. Details were starting to come back now, and a cold fear clutched at her heart.

"Deeks? Are you alright?"

"Deeks isn't here, but I'm fine. Well, maybe not fine, but as well as can be expected, given the circumstances."

It was all coming back now – she knew who that voice belonged to. Only this couldn't be happening. Kensi opened her eyes slowly and raised her head up, scarcely believing what she saw. She was sitting in the car, which was now at a complete standstill, but Deeks was no longer in the passenger seat. Instead, sitting there was a very familiar figure, one she had not seen for over two years.

"Macy? But you're dead." Kensi sat up and was amazed to discover that she felt fine – not a single ache, no muscles protesting against the restraint of the seatbelt or the impact of the airbag.

"Tell me something I don't know." Lauren Macy gave a rueful smile. "Nice seeing you again, Kensi. It's been a long time."

"Where's Deeks? Is he alright?" Kensi looked around frantically.

"Ah. Well, that's a long story, Kensi. But you're not in a hurry, are you?"

"I need to know that Deeks is alright. And if he isn't, I need to get help."

"Why are you so worried about Deeks all of a sudden?" Macy turned around and gave her a searching look. "Don't tell me that he matters to you?"

"Of course he matters. He's my partner."

"Is that all he is, Kensi? Are you sure?"

"I'm certain."

"You realise that Deeks thinks you don't want to work with him?"

"I never said that," Kensi protested.

"You never said a lot of things," Macy reminded her. "But I'm not here to start recriminating you, Kensi. You were wishing you could rewind time, so that things could be different. Well, Kensi - you're going to get your wish."

Kensi could feel a bubble of panic starting to rise in her chest. "I like things just the way they are."

"It's too late," Macy said quietly. " Things have been put in place and it's too late to change them now. Just try to remember that, because next time, you're going to want to be more careful about what you wish for. Things might just be a whole lot worse than you ever imagined."

* * *

><p><em>Just in case anyone thinks I am being unnecessarily hard on Kensi, can I just mention 'It's A Wonderful Life'? The similarities should become apparent in the next chapter. THere might even be a little bit of 'Groundhog Day' slipped into the mix. Maybe I should rename it 'plot bunny day'?<em>

_talking of plot bunnies, Crack-fic bunny has decided it is time he got in on the act again, so do not be surprised if he pops up at some point. Possibly around about New Year, thanks to a certain suggestion by the wonderful PurpleHipposRock._


	3. Chapter 3

_Kensi begins to find out exactly what her wish that Dom had not died means... and she learns that not all changes are necessarily for the better._  
><em>A homage to the film 'It's A Wonderful Life'.<em>

* * *

><p>Kensi started to protest - how could things possibly be any worse than they already were, with the whole team against her? - but then she decided that this was probably pointless: clearly she had hit her head really hard when the car crashed and this was some sort of peculiar hallucination. Deeks must be alright, which would explain why he wasn't in the car. Macy was nothing more than a figment of her imagination – a very realistic figment, but nothing more. This was not real – it was not happening. So there was no need to worry. All she had to do was to simply put up with this freaky weirdness, and before long she'd wake up and everything would be just fine. Well, apart from the obvious head injury, of course.<p>

When things started to spin around in a highly disconcerting fashion, this only seemed to confirm Kensi's suspicions. Sometimes it was best just to lie back and enjoy things, so she just closed her eyes and tried to relax. Despite her best intentions, it was still unsettling to open them again and discover herself lying in bed, with Macy perched cross-legged at the end.

"Your room is disgusting, Kensi. How do you manage to always look so perfect when you live in a pig sty?" She looked at the piles of clothes lying around, the surfaces crowded with make-up, hair products, perfume and the twenty or more pairs of shoes and boots scattered across a wide radius and shuddered.

"I have a system," Kensi said vaguely, pushing herself up onto her elbows.

"You don't bring many men back here, do you?"

"I don't bring men here: period." This was getting rather too personal for Kensi's tastes. She shoved back the covers and got up.

Macy's eyes widened. "I'm not surprised, if that's what you wear to bed. Oreos?"

"They're pandas." Kensi had lost count of the number of times she had to explain that to people today. Of course, it might explain why the pyjamas had been on sale in the first place.

"Of course they are," Macy said comfortably. "They're also passion killers. With a capital 'P' and a capital 'K'. Your virtue is safe from any nocturnal intruders, no doubt about it."

"You're different." During their time together in NCIS, Macy had always been crisply professional and slightly distant, with the result that Kensi had never felt she knew her.

"Of course I'm different. I'm dead. That's as big a life-changing event as you can get, you know."

"Am I dead?" Kensi was beginning to feel as if something bad had happened in that car crash. This had gone way beyond the normal sort of nightmare. This was too real – and too surreal at the same time.

Tilting her head to one side, Macy regarded her curiously. "Do you feel dead?"

"How would I know? I've never died before."

"It's not that bad, you know. Being dead, I mean. Well, the actual dying part was crap. Obviously. There was a whole lot of pain, and that feeling of scared out of your wits. And the moment when I knew I was definitely going to die: that was hellish. Absolutely the worst moment of my life, bar none." She stopped for a second and thought back. "Actually, it was also the last moment of my life too. Ain't that a kicker? And then it all just stopped and there I was, just floating aimlessly around in all this nothingness. For a long time there is nothing – and I mean nothing. As in the complete absence of anything. It's rather relaxing, you know."

"I'd rather not find out any time soon."

"Don't worry – you're destined for a long life. Everyone should be so lucky." Macy sounded faintly envious.

"So why are you here?" Kensi wondered if maybe she had suffered brain damage. If so, she prayed Deeks was getting help. She had this vision of him, trying to flag down passing cars, with Monty by his side. Who in their right mind would stop for a man and a dog wearing matching sweaters? The sweaters that taste forgot…

"You're thinking about him, aren't you? About your partner – Marty Deeks. Well, he's one of the reasons I'm here."

"And the other reason?"

"How about we leave that one for a while? It should come to you in a bit. At least I hope it does, or this is all going to be very awkward." Macy stood up and stretched sinuously, like a cat and then staggered briefly. "Whoops. I'd forgotten what it feels like to have legs again. These don't quite seem to belong to me just yet. I can't feel my knees at all." She flexed her leg gingerly and watched with interest as her knee bent both backwards and forwards. "Kind of freaky, huh?"

This was beginning to feel like a trip – not a bad trip, just not a very good one. Kensi knew exactly how Alice must have felt after she fell down that rabbit hole.

"It's strange, having a body again. And this was a really good body. Do you have any idea how hard I worked to get this body?" Macy took a look at Kensi and grinned in a friendly way. "What am I saying – of course you do. You work out every day, don't you? And then you hit the gym at the Mission too. Any chance to beat up Deeks and show him who's boss? Or do you just like the chance to get into some officially-sanctioned close contact with him?"

Kensi started to protest, but Macy wasn't listening. She was tottering around the bedroom, picking her way around and over the piles of clothes and shoes, and continuing to talk.

"Anyway, I was so mad when I died. I'd been training for the marathon, and all I could think about was how it was all a complete waste of effort. All that time I could have spent doing other things – like living a little. And loving a whole lot. And instead, there I was, just sort of floating around in time and space, like an amorphous amoeba."

"But you're here now – here with me. And you look exactly the same." Macy was wearing the same white shirt and tight pants that had virtually constituted her uniform.

"It wouldn't really work if I was just a skeleton, would it? I'd kind of lack that credibility factor in your eyes. Not to mention freaking you out. So they gave me back my body – but only on a temporary basis." Macy looked at her watch. "And we haven't got a moment to lose." She held out her hand, and without quite knowing why, Kensi took hold of it.

Things seemed to fade to black for an instant, and then there was a kaleidoscope of colours. When everything finally resolved into clarity, Kensi found herself standing in the Mission. It was a lot busier than it had been earlier this morning, and all the decorations had disappeared. And so had the bullpen. The whole space looked entirely different, and she didn't recognise a single person

"Our desks have gone." Kensi wandered over to the area she'd spend so many hours in and felt a pang of emptiness.

"That's because you're not here anymore. None of you are. Even Hetty's gone. Agent Hunter is in charge now."

Sure enough, Hetty's gloriously eclectic office was no longer there. All traces of her vibrant, enigmatic character had been swept away, to be replaced by bland, modern furniture, in a pale wood. There was no personality in evidence whatsoever.

"I never trusted Hunter," Kensi said darkly.

"Quite right. Never trust a woman whose face doesn't move when she smiles. Just one look at her and this shiver runs down my spine."

"You're probably right, but I just put it down to too much Botox. Deeks used to call her "Frozen Face", and make remarks about ice every opportunity he could." She smiled at the memory and then looked around for a familiar blond head. "So where is Deeks?"

Macy gave her a pitying smile. "Haven't you listened to a word I said? Kensi – you wanted to rewind time. Well, that's what happened. Dom never died, so Deeks never joined NCIS. You never worked together. Everything is different now. Hunter runs NCIS and she has decreed Christmas is a normal working day. She even banned decorations as being unprofessional."

"I never met Deeks?" That didn't seem possible. He was so much a part of Kensi's life that to trying to imagine never knowing him was inconceivable.

"I didn't say that," Macy chided. "You need to pay more attention, Kensi. I know this is confusing, but try to keep up to speed. Actually, you did meet Deeks. You met him one night in a club. And you had great sex and then you went your separate ways and never met again. But you always remembered him."

Kensi was not going to enquire any further into that. But it was good to know that her suspicion that having sex with Deeks would blow the world apart was true. "And what about Deeks? Did he always remember me?"

"This is your life, Kensi and your story. Let's just leave Deeks out of it for the time being, shall we?"

This was probably what those acid trips from the 1970s had felt like, Kensi thought. Trying desperately to make some sense out of everything, she looked around the Mission again, searching in vain for a familiar face.

"So if Dom didn't die – where is he?" Surely he should be here?

"You're getting ahead of things again. And you're not asking the right questions."

Kensi remembered that Macy had been a good deal of a control freak when she was alive. Death had clearly not had much of an effect on her rather more anal tendencies. "How about you give me a hint?"

"Aren't you at all curious about why Dom didn't die?" Macy tilted her head to one side. "Not even a little bit?"

If there was one thing that set Kensi's teeth on edge, it was someone being arch – and sickly sweet at the same time. "Why didn't Dom die?" she asked as politely as possible.

Macy wandered over to the couch and sat down. "Boy, this looks luxurious, but it feels like concrete blocks with a thin layer of wadding on top. Nice fabric though." She stroked it absently. "You do miss these sensory experiences. All these little things that make life worth living... the way a man's skin feels, that musky scent and the sound of him groaning in your ear when his arms clutch you and the taste of sweat on his brow... Now, where was I? Oh yes, Dom."

"You said he didn't die." Kensi had never quite been able to shift the guilt she felt about Dom. Everyone had told her that it wasn't her fault, but she still wondered that if she'd been a better mentor, then he might not have made the fatal mistake of not varying his routine. And Deeks had nearly died, because he'd done the same thing. Nobody had pointed their finger at Kensi, but she had still felt accountable. Two partners caught out by the same mistake was clearly a pattern – and she was the one common denominator.

"No, Dom didn't die. For the very good reason that he was never kidnapped in the first place." Macy sat up very straight, her feet flat on the ground and her hands clasped neatly in her lap.

"That's great." Kensi felt like turning a cartwheel out of sheer joy. "That is absolutely brilliant."

"Yes. For Dom. But it wasn't quite so great for everyone else."

Macy's words fell like stones into a still pond and she sat watching their ripples spread out into Kensi's consciousness as realisation dawned.

"You mean someone else was taken instead?"

"That's right. There's only so much that can be changed. The timeline still has to continue. You can't change everything – just the components. Minor amendments are fine, but in order for Dom to live, someone else had to die. Those are the rules."

"Who?" Kensi sat down beside Macy and took hold of her hand, noticing that it felt neither warm nor cold: – it just didn't feel alive. "Who died, Macy?"

"They took Callen instead of Dom."

"Callen died?" Kensi could feel tears welling up in her eyes and brushed them away angrily. "How could Callen die? It's not possible – the man's a living legend."

"He was a legend, Kensi. Past tense. He's dead now. And Callen was also human, he wasn't infallible or invincible, no matter how much he gave that impression. Callen was made of flesh and blood, just like I once was. And like everyone, he had his limits. Which turned out to be a bullet in the brain."

Kensi dropped Macy's hand from suddenly nerveless fingers and tried to process this; to make some sense out of this madness. Callen was dead? How could that be? Callen was the core of NCIS – how could they possibly continue without him?

Macy turned deep, fathomless eyes on her. "I told you that not everything could change, didn't I. For every death that is averted, there is a new death that must take its place. Dom lived – and Callen died."

"Callen died because I wished that Dom was still alive?"

"Pretty much." Macy had always been rather too blunt for comfort, Kensi recalled. "And that had further implications. That one change caused a tidal wave of difference."

"I feel terrible." It felt as if the bottom had dropped out of Kensi's world and she was tumbling down through a maelstrom of disaster

"If you feel bad about Callen, imagine how I feel. We were lovers for two years, after all." Macy's face grew much softer. "Even if I didn't know his real name. Nobody did, of course. His tombstone looks kind of strange with just 'G Callen' on it, but what else could they do?"

She tried to smile, but the gesture sat oddly on her face and went nowhere near her eyes. Even after all this time, Macy still missed him; missed the solid, reassuring presence of his body beside hers and the memory of how he just had to look at her and she would go weak at the knees. All the subterfuge they had to employ to keep their affair a secret had only added an extra layer of excitement. Those stolen moments, the loaded glances across a crowded room, the way her heart would beat just a little bit faster when he 'accidentally' brushed past her… they had never thought of the future and had lived only in the moment. Each wonderful, glorious, impermanent moment. If they had known they were both going to die, then perhaps things might have been different. But at the time, they had thought they were doing the right thing.

Kensi looked at her in astonishment, and then blinked several times as she tried to process this information. "I never knew."

"That's because it was none of your business." Macy decided that she didn't want to talk about it anymore, because it seemed like a betrayal. Some things should remain a private and special, even if they were only memories now.

"And Callen never said anything," Kensi wondered aloud, as she tried to come to terms with this new information. "Not one word. Not when you left, not even when we got heard that you were dead. He didn't say anything."

"Do I have to repeat myself? What went on between us was none of your business – not when I was alive and certainly not when I died. Why would Callen say anything to you? He did his grieving in private."

"I never knew. I never even guessed."

Macy gave her a searching look "Maybe you don't know quite as much about your co-workers as you think you do, Kensi? You never knew that Sam had a family until very recently, did you? And that brings us to Sam. Poor Sam." There was genuine regret in Macy's voice.

"What about Sam?" Kensi wasn't sure that she wanted to hear this. "Please tell me Sam's alright?" She could hear the begging tint to her voice, but she didn't care.

* * *

><p><em>And things get worse, as Kensi finds out what other changes have taken place in this alternate world. Wow - evil plot bunny really is a nasty little piece of work, isn't he?<em>

_That reference to Kensi and Deeks meeting in a club and having great sex might just be a reference to my story **Like A Hurricane**, if you squint._


	4. Chapter 4

_Kensi learns to be careful for you wish for when Macy shows her just how different life would be if Dom was still alive..._

_Huge thanks to everyone who has reviewed and added this as a favourite story, and also for all the author and story alerts._

* * *

><p>"I wish I could tell you that Sam was alright. I really do. But I'd be lying." Macy watched as Kensi bit her lower lip and blinked very hard for a couple of minutes. "You know Sam – well, you did know him, when he was alive. Even if you didn't know him very well." What Kensi had said about Callen, the unwitting implication that he had not really cared, had wounded Macy to the core – a core she thought had long since withered away, along with her corporeal remains.<p>

"He's not dead? I refuse to believe Sam's dead too."

Macy ignored her and just kept on talking. "You really didn't know him very well, did you? But even you must have noticed how protective Sam was of his team? How he always wanted to make sure everyone was alright? Well, he was racked with guilt when Callen died and he kept blaming himself. And without Callen, there was nobody to make sure that Sam was safe: there was no-one to look after him."

"I don't think I want to hear anymore," Kensi said firmly.

"That's fine. No-one is forcing you to listen. But it's not going to change anything – what happened still happened. And sometimes knowing what actually happened is better than imagining what might have happened." Macy paused. "Not always, though. Sometimes ignorance really is bliss." If this was how Kensi was reacting to the news about Sam and Callen, how on earth would cope with all the other things Macy had to tell her?

That was easy for her to say, Kensi thought. Easy, because Macy knew what had happened. Knowing something had happened, but not knowing exactly what that something was, well that was unbearable. "So what happened to Sam?" It was bad enough to hear that Callen was dead, but Sam too? That was almost beyond comprehension.

"Sam refused to have another partner, so when he went out to Yemen after Abdul Habaza, he went out alone, with no backup, except Nate. And you know Nate – a nice enough guy, as psychologists go…"

Macy let the sentence tail off into nothingness. If she'd had her way Nate would have been gone a long time ago. It was nothing personal, but she'd never felt he was essential to the team. Mind you, she'd never seen the need for an LAPD liaison officer either – but then she'd never actually seen Deeks. Things might have been different if she'd seen Deeks in the flesh, Macy thought. She'd always had a thing for blue eyed blonds with muscles and tans.

"But whatever Nate was, he definitely wasn't an experienced field agent. He did his best, but it wasn't enough. And the whole operation was a trap. It had been a trap all along. Without Callen there, things were doomed from the start."

"Sam died in Yemen?" Kensi's voice was thin and low. She remembered the Yemen mission, and what a close run thing it had been. Deeks had just come back to work after his shooting, and together they'd uncovered the evidence that proved Abdul had been in command all along, the evidence that had been crucial in raising the alarm.

"Sam died in Yemen," Macy confirmed. "Deeks was still working for LAPD, so you and he never went to that motel room, or found Felix's laptop. And NCIS never knew it was a trap until it was too late. When he knew things were hopeless, Sam killed himself, rather than be used as a propaganda tool. He was brave, right up to the end. We never got his body back." Wrapping her arms around herself, Macy continued in a monotone. "The child – Amir? He died too and his body was sent back to his father – eventually. And the Warriors for Islam gained more followers and grew stronger and stronger, despite Sam's sacrifice."

"I don't believe it." How could everything change so much just because Dom lived? How could one thing make so much difference? Dom lived – but two good men died instead. Kensi realised that her wish had killed her friends – unwittingly, perhaps, but the end result was just the same as if she had pulled the trigger herself.

"You don't have to believe it if you don't want to, Kensi. But whether you believe it or not, nothing is going to alter. Callen is still dead, and Sam is still dead. But Dom is alive – just like you wished he was. One change can have a whole lot of repercussions."

"You're not kidding. What about the rest of the team?" She had to know. Surely it couldn't all be bad news, could it? Deeks couldn't be dead too. Not Deeks. Kensi refused to even entertain the possibility that Deeks might be dead because she wasn't going to allow that to happen. Not in this reality and not in any other reality.

Macy got up and walked restlessly over to the foot of the stairs. "It was hard on Eric. Very hard. Did you ever think how stressful it was for him, having to sit there and listen to everything going down? To have to watch his team members die and not be able to do anything to help?"

"Eric always helped. He got our asses out of hot water more times than I can count," Kensi said vehemently. The team had always been able to rely on Eric, even if they'd often given him a hard time. He was their lifeline, in more ways than he would ever know.

"Did you ever tell him that? Did you ever ask him how he was coping with things? Or did you just take him for granted?" Macy didn't wait for an answer. "Eric resigned. The deaths of two of the team was more than enough and he didn't want to wait around for to watch or listen to more carnage. Eric knew his limits and he got out while he still could and went back to hacking. His skills had multiplied during his time with NCIS, but he was protected while he worked for us – every system he hacked into or corrupted was done under the aegis of being officially condoned, so he was immune. That all changed when he left – he was on his own, with no-one to watch his back. One day Eric got careless, went into a few places he really shouldn't have and he was found out. So now he's serving a ten year sentence for cyber-crimes."

"Eric's in prison? Hetty would never allow that to happen."

"Even Hetty isn't invincible. There wasn't anything she could do – and believe me, she tried everything. She called in every single favour she could think of – and then some more. But when that failed, she did the only thing left to her and resigned. Last heard of, Hetty was living in Paris and keeping a low profile, which isn't difficult for her. Basically she's a modern-day reincarnation of Greta Garbo. Except a lot shorter."

If that was a joke, then Kensi wasn't laughing. And neither was Macy, come to that.

"What about Dom?" Surely Dom had to have made it? Kensi took another sweep of the Mission, but there was no sign of him, and that seemed ominous. Why wasn't Dom around?

"After Hetty left, Dom decided that he wasn't cut out to be an agent after all. Mind you, he had a bit of help in reaching that decision. You see, he came in for quite a bit of flack from his superiors, who felt he lacked tradecraft, investigative skills, self-defence, interrogation techniques – you name it and Hunter pulled him up for it. And Vance backed her up, 100%. Between them, they picked the poor guy to pieces. Except for his reports. They liked his reports a lot, because they were always very thorough, and he always filed them on time. Which just goes to show you that paperwork isn't everything."

Kensi couldn't help thinking about how Deeks always waited until the very last moment until he filed his own reports. The last time she had looked, there was three months' worth of overtime claims still lying in his in-tray.

"I heard that Dom went back to college, and was trying for tenure, but it might just be a rumour. He's pretty much dropped off the radar. After that ritual humiliation, I can't blame him for dropping all contact with NCIS and trying to forget he ever worked for us. It wasn't exactly his most shining moment." Macy's sympathy was limited: Dom hadn't been a great agent by any means, but at least he was still alive.

"So they were all gone." Everyone had left and everything had changed. Things were beginning to make sense, Kensi thought. That was why everything in the Mission looked so different and why she couldn't see any of her old colleagues. "And Hunter's in charge of OSP?"

"There is no OSP," Macy corrected. "Hunter is in charge of the LA division of NCIS. OSP ceased to exist when the team fell apart and Hetty resigned. There was nobody else with enough skills or enough credibility to take it over. Hunter is competent enough, but she's no Hetty Lang. No one is. The lady had tiny feet, but the powers that be couldn't find anyone to fill her shoes. So, it was bye bye OSP. And that meant that Nell never came to the Mission in the first place, so you never knew her. She was posted to Washington instead, where she met one Special Agent Timothy McGee, and fell in love. I hear they're very happy. So it wasn't all bad. Just most of it."

At least there was one piece of good news amongst all this devastation. Kensi tried briefly to imagine Gibbs wearing one of Nell's Christmas sweaters and failed miserably. But there was one person whose fate was still unknown, and the suspense was unbearable.

"What about Deeks?" There was a huge lump in Kensi's throat as she asked that question: everything she knew had been swept away, so that she was standing on shifting sands as the tide swept in towards her. Deeks had to be alright – because he was Deeks.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because I need to know. I just need to know he's okay."

Macy looked at her, a long, cool and calculating stare. "Does Deeks matter more than the others?"

"Of course not." It was ridiculous to even suggest it. Completely ludicrous. Why would Deeks matter more to Kensi than any of the others?

"Maybe I should rephrase that: does Deeks matter more to you, Kensi?"

"I told you he didn't. It's just that he's my partner. So it's different."

"Really? Is that the truth? What do you have to lose by telling the truth, Kensi?" Macy's reputation as an interrogator was second to none, and Kensi was beginning to see why. She knew exactly which questions to ask and precisely which buttons to push.

"Deeks matters, okay? I don't know why he matters, but he just does. And I need to know that he's alright."

A look of extreme sorrow crept across Macy's face. "I'm really sorry. I wish I didn't have to tell you this, but I can't lie. Deeks died, Kensi. He died over a year ago."

Kensi shook her head in disbelief. How could Deeks be dead? He was too full of life to die. He was too young to die. And he shouldn't have died before they had really spoken – spoken properly, about all the things that lay unspoken between them. How could she have spent so much time with Deeks and never once told him how she really felt?

"Deeks never joined NCIS as LAPD liaison, remember?" Macy reminded her. "You already know that in your timeline he went on that long-term undercover mission without a whole lot in the way of support or backup, which was why he turned to Hetty. But in this reality, Deeks still LAPD and there was no NCIS connection. So there was no-one for him to go to for help – no-one who could make a difference, because your team was never involved. He'd been dealt a hand of marked cards, and after his partner Jess Traynor was killed, there was nobody he could go to. Scarli wasn't the only corrupt cop on the force. With Jess gone, Deeks was dead in the water - quite literally, as it turned out. Lazik ordered his men to torture him. You don't want to know the details. Believe me on that."

"Deeks died?" Day had turned into night and everything was black.

"Deeks died - eventually. Lazik's men were enjoying themselves rather too much. Let's just say that it took a long time."

Kensi had wandered over to the doors of the Mission and was staring sightlessly out into the courtyard. She could feel the warmth and knew that the sun was shining, and somewhere in the background she could hear that a bird was singing, but nothing seemed real. Nothing mattered any more. How could life go on so normally when Deeks was dead? How could she possibly go on living knowing what she had done.

Macy joined her and turned her face up to the sky. "You forget how good the simplest things feel, like the sun on your face. The little things that remind you that it's still a beautiful world, despite everything."

It didn't seem beautiful to Kensi; it seemed flat, stale and unprofitable, with all the shams and drudgeries flaunting their heads above the ugly brutalities of life.

"I need to know how he died." She shut her eyes and tried to blot out the image of Deeks' lying dead on the ground, staring up at the shy with sightless blue eyes, but it refused to go away.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Kensi: Deeks died a horrible death, and he died all alone. That's all that matters. When it was over, Lazik's men threw his body into the ocean and it was taken away by the tides. It was more than a week before it washed up, and by then there wasn't a whole lot left – just enough to manage an ID. And of course, Deeks had no next of kin to claim what had survived, so LAPD arranged for a private cremation, without a ceremony. His ashes were scattered back into ocean."

Deeks had always loved the ocean and now he would be one with it forever. He would be everywhere and nowhere all at once, and he would be forever in Kensi's thoughts.

"No." Kensi's throat felt as if it was swollen to about twice its normal size and it was difficult to breath, let alone speak. "Why are you telling me all this?"

"Because you need to know." You had to learn from the past so that you did not repeat your mistakes. Maybe next time, Kensi would be different. It was a faint hope, but it was just possible, Macy thought.

"Deeks needed someone. LAPD put him out on a limb and then it started sawing away at the branch. His death was only a matter of time, after all. And when Jess died, it became inevitable" Macy shook her head. "It was a shame, because Deeks was a good cop and a nice guy, from all accounts. But he was just too bull-headed for his own good you know. What Deeks needed was someone who would rein him in, and also bring out the best in him. Someone like you."

Kensi looked at her numbly. She had made that much difference – the difference between life and death? She had meant that much to Deeks?

"You were the best thing that never happened to Deeks, Kensi. In your timeline, you and NCIS were the making of Deeks – but in this reality, he never got that chance to save himself."

"This isn't true. None of it's true." The tears were running down her face now, in a way she had never cried in front of anyone before. Even when they had told her that her father was dead, Kensi had waited until she was alone before she had let a single tear fall. But right now she was powerless to stop them, or the sobs that came unbidden from her throat – harsh and raw, forcing their way out and ripping her to shreds with their power.

"Look around you, Kensi. What do you see? Who do you see? Where is your team? There's not a single trace of them, is there? There isn't even one piece of evidence to say that they ever worked here. It's all gone. Look how quickly you all forgot me. Does that mean I never existed?" For the first time, sadness drenched Macy's voice. "I loved working here, you know. And I did my best, I really did."

"You were a great boss." Kensi just wished she had said it when Macy was alive.

"No, I wasn't. Not really. But it was nice of you to say so."

Just because she was dead, it didn't mean that she was stupid, Macy thought. She knew the team had respected her, but they'd never admired her in the way they admired Hetty. And there was no way she could ever have inspired the sort of loyalty that led to mass resignations and a near suicide mission to Prague. That was the ultimate proof of Hetty's undoubted brilliance – that she had created such a team.

Kensi walked over to the copier, which was once again showing that the cyan cartridge was running low: some things never changed. At least there was one small area of normality in the midst of this nightmare. Scrubbing away the tears with one hand, she turned to Macy. "None of this is real. How come I'm standing here, in my pyjamas, talking to a dead woman - and nobody is saying a word? This is just some nightmare, or a hallucination – or something. I don't care what it is. But it's not real."

"Well, that all depends on how you categorise 'real', doesn't it? This is what is. What you knew was what once was. The two aren't mutually exclusive. But this isn't exactly the time for philosophical debates. You want to know why nobody is reacting to you? It's simple - they can't see you. And there's a good reason for that." Macy waved her hand in the direction of the copy machine, and the red toner light disappeared as if by magic. She looked absurdly pleased at this.

"How come you can change some things and not others?" If Macy could work magic with the copier, then she could bring Deeks back. And Callen and Sam too, of course.

"This? This is small stuff. Inconsequential. I'm just doing what would be done – only a good deal more efficiently. But you're trying to avoid the issue. You need to start looking at the bigger picture, not just parts of it. We all play our part, Kensi and we all contribute to the overall result, in one way or another. And because Deeks wasn't working for NCIS, then he never got shot when he was out jogging. Dom got shot instead – as a way of getting to you. But Dom wasn't Deeks."

"Tell me about it." Dom was a nice kid – but Deeks was Deeks. Deeks was a man, and he had this mystic ability to make Kensi feel like no other man had ever done before. Sure, he could be as annoying as hell, but he was funny and he was smart and she felt safe with him. When Kensi was with Deeks, she knew that he always had her back – just like she had his.

"Dom was nothing like Deeks, was he?" It was as if Macy could read her thoughts. "Think about it, Kensi: Dom was not Deeks. And that made all the difference to you."

It was starting to make a horrible sort of sense now and Kensi looked at Macy in growing horror. "Deeks saved my life at the hospital. But Deeks wasn't there this time, was he?"

"No, he wasn't. Deeks had been dead for weeks by then. He was finally at peace."

Finally Kensi understood what Macy had been hinting at for so long. "I died too, didn't I?"

* * *

><p><em>Even I am shocked at just how bloodthirsty evil plot bunny can be. He's killed off all the team in two chapters! Or has he? stay tuned to find out more.<em>


	5. Chapter 5

"Good girl. I thought you'd get it eventually," Macy said approvingly. "Dom wasn't able to put the pieces of the puzzle together like Deeks did. So when you ran outside, Dom didn't run after you – he stayed safely in his bed, and didn't nearly kill himself trying to save you. And because Deeks wasn't there to shoot the gunman, that meant you were killed in the hospital parking lot."

It all sounded so simple and so perfectly logical, put like that. Only it was all so hideously wrong.

"No." This wasn't happening. None of this was real. If Kensi said that enough times, then it would be true. She would wake up and find out that this was all just a dream – or rather, that it was a nightmare. So why wasn't she waking up?

"I'm sorry Kensi. I wish it could be different. But you died at the hospital. You died too, Kensi. Because Deeks was already dead and only Dom was left alive. There was no-one to save you, just like there was no-one to save Sam or Deeks."

"I don't feel dead," Kensi said. How could she be dead and still be standing here wearing these stupid pyjamas? Was she doomed to wear them for the rest of her life? "I don't want to be dead," she added.

"It wasn't exactly my first choice either. But try to look at it this way - it could be a whole lot worse. At least you died quickly. That's got to count for something, doesn't it?"

"Not a whole lot of comfort in that, Macy."

"And you never even guessed you were dead until I told you, did you? I told you it wasn't that being dead wasn't that bad, didn't I?"

There was something very wrong with Macy's logic, Kensi thought. Being dead was the very worst thing that could happen, wasn't it? Or was hearing that somebody else had died worse still? She considered this for a moment and decided that, on the whole, it probably was. She felt as if a part of her had died when she had heard about Deeks. And now she just didn't feel anything at all. What was it Macy had said about being dead? Something about nothingness and the complete absence of anything. That was about right. Except for this pain whenever she thought about Deeks being tortured.

"I don't want to be dead," Kensi repeated. "I don't like this reality. I want things to go back to the way they were."

"That means Dom will be dead again," Macy reminded her.

"Dom's been dead a long time. I'm sure he'll cope with it. I want Callen back and Sam back and all the old team."

"And Deeks?" There was a wicked sparkle in Macy's eye.

"I want Deeks back too." She wanted Deeks back. In fact, Kensi realised that she wanted Deeks more than she had ever wanted anything.

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure," Kensi confirmed. She had never been more certain of anything in her whole life.

"There's no going back, you know. This timeline will disappear forever once we leave. It will be just like it never existed and everything will go back to the way you knew them."

"Good. This timeline sucks." A thought struck Kensi. "Just how far back can we go? Any chance we could go back to Christmas Eve?" There were one or two things she wanted to change.

"I'm good but I'm not that good. I can give you a little bit of leeway – as a special favour. But don't push it. It's this morning, or nothing Kensi. Take it or leave it."

"I'll take it. Any chance I could maybe have an early alarm call? Just as one last favour?"

"How early?" Macy looked dubious.

"About 6-ish?" Kensi said, after doing a quick calculation. That should give her just enough time, she thought. She was going to do things differently this time and she didn't want to leave anything to chance. Everything was going to be just perfect.

"You're not to go outside or have any contact with anyone." Macy looked as stern as she could manage, given that she was longing to give Kensi a huge hug and wish her luck.

"I won't. I promise you."

"Well, I can't see it will do any harm." Macy smiled knowingly. "And it might just make all the difference." She knew rather more than she had let on to Kensi and consequently had a very good idea exactly what the young woman was planning.

Taking one last time around the Mission, Macy prepared to leave it for the last time. It was unlikely she would ever be back again.

"I remember when we first moved here."

There were so many memories filling her mind, pushing and jostling for prime position - some of them sweet, some not so great. And when she went back to oblivion, they would all be gone once again. Still it had been good to be back here on earth, if only for a short time. This particular timeline was doomed to failure, after all. With any luck, she'd maybe set Kensi on a clear path and helped her to clarify what was really important in her life. Everyone deserved to be happy after all –especially at Christmas.

"We've had some good times," Kensi admitted.

"Make sure you have a whole lot more. That's an order. It's up to you now. You've seen how one small change can affect everything. And Kensi – enjoy your life. Do everything you want to do – because you never see the end coming. Believe me on that."

There was the strangest look on Macy's face as she looked all around her. "Don't waste a single minute, Kensi. Make sure you make those golden memories. I wish I had."

More than anything, she wished that she had told Callen how much he meant to her – how much she had loved him. How much she still loved him. The last thing that Macy was conscious of was a single tear running down her cheek as she thought of Callen. She would never stop loving him – not as long as she had the power to think.

And then things seemed to shimmer and all the colour leached away. The sounds of the Mission gradually retreated to be replaced by a shrill, irritating noise. It took a few moments for Kensi to realise it was the alarm on her cell phone and that she was back in her apartment, lying in bed and still wearing those damned pink flannel pyjamas, with the mutant pandas on them. She stretched out her hand and fumbled blindly around her bedside cabinet before finally locating amidst the assorted detritus that congregated there. The display showed it was 6am, which was unseasonably early to be awake on Christmas morning, but there were things to be done. And the first thing she was doing was sticking these flannel nightmares into the garbage, where they belonged.

* * *

><p>By eight o'clock, the apartment was neater than it had been in months. Two large refuse sacks full of take-out containers, plus the majority of the contents of her fridge, were safely stowed away in the garbage bins outside. Most of the rest of her clutter had been safely stowed away behind the couch and all the soft furnishings had been given a liberal spray of freshening odour absorber. It still wasn't great, but you could see the floor and at least 50% of the surfaces, which was a definite improvement.<p>

Checking her watch, Kensi realised it was nearly eight o'clock and an absurd flutter started to build up in her stomach as she waited for the knock at the door. When it finally happened, she nearly jumped out of her skin. This was ridiculous: it was only Deeks, she told herself. So why did she feel as nervous as a high school student going out on a date?

"Merry Christmas, Deeks!" She opened the door with a radiant smile.

Clearly, Deeks had not been expecting that reaction, because he took a step back in genuine shock at the effusive welcome and then peered cautiously inside.

"Have I come to the wrong place? I was looking for this apartment that looks like it hosted a rummage sale." He practically did a double take when he saw the radiant smile on Kensi's face. "And I was expecting this real grouch to open the door. Gorgeous – but grumpy." It was a bit like _Invasion of the Body Snatchers_ – if they were really houseproud.

"I'm not normally a morning person," Kensi admitted. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"You want me to wipe my feet?" Clearly, at some point in his life, someone had attempted to house-train Deeks. It was just a pity they'd only been partially successful and had clearly given up before instilling a few tips about the benefits of personal grooming.

"You never bothered before – so why start now?" Did he have to be quite so obtuse, she thought.

"I never knew you had a carpet before. It could have tile, or wood or anything." Deeks wondered what on earth had been going on. Kensi's apartment normally looked like she was about to star in an episode of _Hoarders._

Kensi just smiled sweetly. "Merry Christmas." Normally she would have risen to the bait, but this wasn't a normal day. This was Christmas day, and Deeks was alive, gloriously, wonderfully alive. And he was going to stay that way, whether he liked it or not. Right now, he looked good enough to eat.

This time he took the hint. "Merry Christmas, Kensi." And then Deeks took her by surprise by leaning forward and kissing her – on the cheek, to be sure, but it was a kiss nevertheless. And the golden stubble felt so soft as it brushed across her skin. Had he seen the mistletoe she'd placed strategically above the door or was he just being polite?

"Wow. You smell nice."

"It's the lotion you gave me. That was so sweet of you." He smelt just like he always did: Kensi could have been placed in a room full of men, blindfolded and she would still be able to pick out Deeks by the aromas of sun, sea and lemon.

Deeks blushed. He actually blushed and for the first time Kensi realised that one could indeed catch more flies with sugar than with vinegar. It was just a pity that he was still impervious to the mistletoe hanging right about his head.

"What am I thinking of? Come on in." She held the door open invitingly. "And let me take your coat."

"Your place looks nice." Deeks felt as if he'd walked into the wrong apartment. "But you haven't got a tree."

"There's not just point when there's just me."

"I'm here."

"So you are." Kensi pointed to his jacket. "So why don't you take off your coat and we can have breakfast?"

"Breakfast?" Deeks looked as if someone had hit him with a pole and he was reeling from the impact. Kensi never had food in the house – well, not food that wasn't way past its sell-by date

"It's the least I could do. Seeing you gave me such a thoughtful present. It's nothing special – just coffee and cinnamon rolls." Kensi was sure those rolls in the freezer for at least a couple of years, but they had looked fine when she'd popped them into the oven. And it wasn't like things could go off when they were frozen – or could they?

"That sounds amazing." Deeks sniffed the air appreciatively, relishing the scent of sugar and cinnamon, overlaid by the familiar scent of coffee. "And it smells even better." He finally took off his jacket, revealing that Christmas sweater in all its glory.

"Nice sweater." It was a real struggle, but Kensi managed to say that with a straight face and without the slightest hint of sarcasm.

"It was a present from Nell's mother. I got one last year too." Deeks looked down at himself and shrugged. "I managed to leave that one behind on a ski trip. Accidentally on purpose. It's hideous, isn't it? But I don't want to hurt Nell's feelings, so I thought I'd wear it today and make her happy. And it was really kind of her mom to go to all that trouble. Even if she hasn't got any taste."

"It's got kind of a retro vibe going on," Kensi assured him. It reminded her of a book she'd seen once, entitled _'When Knitting Patterns Go Wrong'_. They surely couldn't get much worse than that sweater. But Macy had been right – Deeks was a nice guy to wear a sweater like that.

"You haven't asked me why I came over." Deeks settled himself comfortably on the sofa, slinging one foot across the opposite knee and Kensi couldn't help noticing how long his legs were and how well his jeans fitted… It was quite mesmerising. She snapped herself back to reality.

"I thought you just called in to wish me a happy Christmas."

"You said you were going away." He looked at her accusingly. Everything seemed subtly different somehow, and it went beyond the tidy apartment and the fact that Kensi actually had food in the house and was offering it to him. Normally when he came around, Deeks brought food with him or went hungry. Housekeeping wasn't exactly high on Kensi's list of priorities, in fact it came way down there, after work, working out, going out and just about anything else. He wriggled uncomfortably and realised there was a broken spring that threated to pierce his thigh if he wasn't careful.

"I had plans. But they got cancelled at the last minute. My best friend from high school – Beth? I was going to stay with her, but last night she phoned to say her sister had come down with flu – and she's got eight month old twins. So Beth had to go help out. Bye bye vacation."

"Bummer. You must be really pissed."

Kensi shrugged. "It could be worse." Boy, was that true. What was a canceled vacation in the scheme of things? "We'll catch up some other time."

The oven timer went off – and was that a brilliant invention or what? If only she'd discovered it a couple of years ago then maybe Kensi wouldn't have incinerated quite so many frozen dinners. Still, you lived and you learned. Anything was possible, as long as you were still alive after all.

"We'd better not be too long – or Hetty will be pacing the floor." Deeks gave her a curious look. "How come you never asked me why I came over?" And how come she was making breakfast? Had some fairy come during the night and sprinkled pixie-dust over her?

Damn! And Kensi thought she'd been so smart, so incredibly clever. She should have remembered that Deeks was a lot smarter than he looked. "I just thought you'd come by to wish me Merry Christmas," she mumbled and dashed into the kitchen.

"You're trying too hard," Macy said, from her vantage point on top of the dryer. "He's going to guess something's up."

"What are you doing here?" Kensi hissed furiously. "You're not supposed to be here."

"They were worried." Macy extended one finger and gestured knowingly towards the ceiling. "So I got to come back - just to keep an eye on things. You can't go and mess up this timeline too, Kensi."

"I'm not going to! Everything was going just fine until you turned up."

"Really?" Macy craned her neck so that she could see into the living room. "So why is Deeks pacing around like the one poor lion in the Coliseum that didn't get a Christian?" She took a longer look and smiled greedily. "And why didn't you tell me just how cute he is?"

"Because it's none of your business! You're going to ruin everything, Macy. Just go away."

"No can do." Macy folded her arms and pulled up her legs until she was sitting Indian style.

"Are you like my guardian angel or something?"

"Hardly. Just think of me as your supernatural insurance policy."

"That's not exactly reassuring." You could really go off people, Kensi thought. Go off them quite violently.

"Kensi?" Deeks' head appeared round the doorway without warning and she just about jumped out of her skin. "Is everything alright?"

"Of course it is. Why wouldn't it be?"

"I thought I heard you talking to someone."

Macy smiled seraphically, and Kensi realised that Deeks couldn't see her. "There's no-one here. You must have been imagining things. Why don't you go sit back down again and I'll bring through the rolls and coffee?"

Deeks gave her a slightly confused smile and left.

"Don't blow this," Macy warned. "Because you won't get another chance."

"I don't intend to," Kensi said grimly. Fixing a bright smile on her face, she took breakfast through to the living room, where Deeks was waiting. Waiting with a question.

"Why would I come over when I thought you were away?"

Kensi could almost see the smirk on Macy's face. "I don't know Deeks. Why would you come over? Maybe because Hetty told you to?"

"That still doesn't explain why you had breakfast waiting for me," he pointed out, taking a large bite out of a roll. "Not that I'm complaining, because these are great. Did you bake them yourself?"

"If you count opening the packet and putting them into the oven as baking, then yes, I did. So I made breakfast? It's Christmas, after all." Why did Deeks have to choose today of all days to be so awkward?

"I'm not complaining." Swigging back a large mouthful of coffee, Deeks let out a contented sigh. "Quite the reverse. I was at the shelter till after midnight and I'm kind of running on empty." He eyes up the plate with a hungry look. "Aren't you eating?"

"I'm not really hungry." Being dead, even for just a short time, tended to kill your appetite, she found. And there was no sense in them both coming down with something like botulism, was there? "But you should have another one," Kensi invited. "And take one for Monty. He's bound to be hungry, and he's waiting so patiently."

"How do you know Monty's out in the car?"

Damn the man! Why did he have to be so sharp?

"Because I saw him when I opened the door." Kensi just hoped Deeks had parked in his normal spot. "Wearing a sweater just like the one you've got on."

"I couldn't leave him by himself on Christmas day." Deeks gave one of those endearing grins and Kensi could feel herself smiling back.

"Of course you couldn't," she assured him, and then remembered just in time that she had a love/hate relationship with the dog. "But we're going in your car, because I'm not having that mangy mutt leaving his dander all over my upholstery."

It wasn't exactly a surprise to get into the car and find Macy sitting in the back seat, beside Monty who looked totally confused and kept sniffing her, but not finding anything. For once, Kensi could empathise completely with the dog. Things were not going quite as she'd planned them. Deeks had studiously ignored the mistletoe hanging over the front door and he'd only given her the chastest of kisses. And with Macy playing gooseberry, not to mention Monty as chaperone, Kensi was beginning to wonder if all her efforts were going to be wasted. Besides which, she was starting to wonder if she'd totally misjudged things. What if Deeks just flirted because he was a flirt? Just suppose he did just think of her as his partner, and nothing more? She risked a surreptitious look at the back seat, but Macy just stuck her tongue out.

"Is everything alright?"

"Everything's fine, Deeks. I was just checking on Monty. You keep your eyes on the road, okay?" Well, there was no sense in actively courting disaster, was there?

* * *

><p><em>Crackfic bunny has insisted that Macy must stay around in this story. He's kind of hoping that she and Callen can renenact that scene from Ghost - you know, the one with the potter's wheel... I just told him not to be ridiculous. How on earth could I work that in? Answers on a postcard to Maxie Kay, care of the frozen north.<em>


	6. Chapter 6

Deeks tried very hard not to roll his eyes. Kensi was giving him instructions on how to drive? He was used to her own inimitable style of driving, but Callen steadfastly refused to get into any car if Kensi was at the wheel. He claimed her driving gave him motion sickness and certainly was usually an attractive shade of chatereuse after a trip with Kensi. Somewhere along the line, Kensi had taken one of those aggressive driving courses and she had never forgotten it.

There was definitely something different about her today, Deeks thought. She was almost mellow, and that certainly was not a word you would normally associate with Kensi. Maybe she'd smoked something to come down after all that frantic clearing up? Only, if she had, then why hadn't she eaten any of the cinnamon rolls? It just didn't add up. And why did she keep looking anxiously into the back seat? It was beginning to make him nervous.

"Monty's fine."

"I know. I just thought I'd keep an eye on him. Now he's a member of the team." Kensi tried not to wince as Macy crossed her eyes in annoyance.

"No need. He's got a harness, so he's quite safe." Were they being followed or something? A quick check in the rear-view mirror showed an almost empty road, so it wasn't that, Deeks thought.

It was at this point that Macy started to whistle, and to whistle in a high-pitched, toneless manner. Monty suffered it for a couple of bars and then started to whimper, in a rather pathetic way.

"I knew something was wrong with him," Kensi said triumphantly. "I have this sort of sixth-sense where animals are concerned.

Deeks found that hard to believe – unless that newly-discovered sixth sense of Kensi's involved being able to spot how tasty an animal would be when served up on a plate , preferably with barbeque sauce. "Maybe it was that cinnamon roll you gave him?" he suggested. "I told you it was kind of rich for him." Anyway, Monty preferred spicy food and was particularly fond of a lamb dhansak.

Kensi tried very hard to suppress the thoughts that started running through her head. Those rolls had been way out of date, after all. What if she'd poisoned Deeks' dog? Monty wasn't the most impressive dog in the world, nor was he the most attractive, but on the other hand, he'd never actually done anything to her. Of course, that might have been because Monty never actually seemed to do much of anything. That time he'd 'found' the bomb had surely been nothing more than a fortuitous co-incidence. Still, Deeks loved Monty and the feeling was undoubtedly reciprocated. And Monty was a dumb, defenceless animal. At least he was dumb now that Macy had finally stopped that awful discordant whistling.

"I've got some Pepto-Bismol in my locker. Maybe we should give him some?" There was no need for Deeks to splutter in indignation like that when she was only trying to be helpful, Kensi thought. To show her caring side.

The mental image of Kensi kneeling down in front of Monty and offering him a spoonful of pink medicine was nearly enough to make Deeks crash the car. "I think we'll just wait and see," he said, when he was finally able to speak without laughing.

"You're trying too hard," Macy said and gave Kensi a slap on the back of her head. If it was good enough for Gibbs, then it was good enough for her. "Calm down. Relax. Just be yourself. No, on second thoughts, don't be yourself. Be nice instead."

Relaxing was much easier in theory than in practice. Kensi had never been quite so aware of how small a car actually was, and how close you sat to the other person. Deeks' lean thigh was only inches away from her and she had to interweave her fingers to make sure she wasn't tempted to inadvertently caress it.

"You're staring at me." Deeks gave her a quick glance. "I know – I could do with a shave. And a haircut."

"Do not let him cut his hair," Macy commanded. "That man has possibly the best hair I've ever seen. So thick and blond, it just makes me want to run my fingers through it." Out of the corner of her eye, Kensi could see Macy reaching out.

"No!"

Macy's hand stopped just inches away from Deeks' artfully dishevelled head and the car swerved briefly across the lane, accompanied by some very inventive swearing from Deeks.

"What the hell?"

"Don't cut your hair," Kensi said lamely. "I like it just the way it is. It's kind of cute."

"I always hated Callen's buzz cut," Macy reflected. "I tried to persuade him to let it grow longer. And would you please start behaving like you usually do with Deeks before he guesses something is up? One of your withering put-downs should just about do it."

"You like my hair?" That was cool, but did she really need to shriek like a banshee about it?

"It covers your ears. Which kind of stick out."

Macy sniggered at this rather lame attempt. "Of course, there's an advantage to a man with ears at right angles to his head – it gives you something to hold onto when you're in the throes of passion."

Kensi decided that it was probably best to change the conversation to a safer subject before Macy got any more outrageous. "have you got any idea why Hetty's called us in?"

"Nope." Deeks was not exactly thrilled at being told he was the human equivalent of a wing-nut. He was slightly sensitive about his ears, which were the reason he'd grown his hair in the first place. "It has to be something important though."

"Ask him if Callen's coming in." Macy leant forward, breathing rather heavily in her excitement and Deeks brushed the back of his neck in an absent manner.

"Are Callen and Sam coming in?"

"No idea." Again, he rubbed the back of his neck. "Is the back window open? There's an awful draft coming from somewhere."

* * *

><p>"I do apologise for calling you both in today."<p>

"Wow! Hetty's got legs." The black leggings Hetty was wearing underneath her tunic-length sweater certainly showed them off to great advantage. "I always thought she was powered by a complex arrangement of cogs and levers. It's almost a disappointment to see she'd human, just like the rest of us. Well, you at any rate." Macy wandered around Ops, peering at all the equipment with great interest. "I see money is still no object when it comes to high-tech stuff. I bet they still take months to process your overtime claims though."

"Nice sweaters," Kensi said, wondering how Nell would manage to cope with the embarrassing situation of having to confess that Kensi was the only team member who had not been gifted a Jones family sweater. "You all look very festive." That was one way of putting it.

"My Mom knitted them." Nell's face was abeam with pleasure. "I'm really glad you like them Kensi, because I really wasn't sure you'd wear one. But Mom insisted on knitting for the whole team." She produced a garish garment and handed it across proudly.

"Wow. She shouldn't have." Rarely had Kensi ever meant anything quite so much. Still, she found she was absurdly pleased to have been included. Nell really was a much better liar than she'd ever given her credit for, because her previous indignation had been totally believable.

"Put it on," Eric suggested. The evil gleam in his eye was visible from at least twenty paces. If he had to wear his sweater, then there was no reason why Kensi shouldn't suffer too.

"Good idea. And then we can get a team photo. Capture us all for posterity.

Wow. Deeks had the best ideas. Not, Kensi thought. Grinning bravely, she wriggled into her sweater. "Why don't we wait until tomorrow – when Sam and Callen are here?" There was always a chance she might die in her sleep after all.

"That really suits you, Kensi." Nell was beaming from ear to ear.

Was that a compliment or an insult? Kensi couldn't quite decide. "It's a lovely fit." Actually, it was. If only she could overlook the vile colour, the ghastly pattern and the fact that the wool was making her skin crawl it would be a great sweater.

"We have rather a problem, that's going to require an inventive solution." Hetty sighed deeply. "I really do wish that Mr Callen and Mr Hanna were here, but it seemed such a pity to call them in and spoil a family Christmas."

"I didn't have anything much on," Deeks informed her. "No plans that can't be changed, anyway." He sounded noble and self-sacrificing, but accompanied the statement with a heart-wrenchingly pitiful look, involving a slight tilt and lowering of his head, and a sideways glance from underneath his eyelashes. It would have wrung blood from a stone and even Kensi felt her heart twinge in sympathy.

"God, that guy is good." Putting both index fingers into her mouth, Macy gave a piercing wolf whistle. Monty didn' t like that any better than before, but at least this one was in tune.

"We can probably accommodate those plans." It was Christmas, and Hetty was aware that there was only so much goodwill she could expect from her team. And although she would sit through a Justin Beiber concert before admitting it, she was no more immune to Deeks' boyish charms than the next woman.

"I'd kind of arranged to meet someone to go skating later on."

"I'll only need you and Ms Blye for two or three hours. After that, you may skate to your heart's content." The beam she bestowed was reminiscent to that of Cinderella's fairy godmother telling her that she would indeed go to the ball. "I was regarded as something of a nifty mover on the ice in my day."

"I can believe it." Deeks had clocked her impressive calf muscles. "Why don't you join us? We're going to the open air rink at Santa Monica."

Kensi tried hard not to react when Macy poked her in the ribs. "Ask him who 'we' is. Go on. You know you're dying to."

"It's been years since I skated." There was a decidedly wistful tone to Hetty's voice. "Dear Dorothy Hamill – she was such a nice girl and always so complimentary about my hair."

"You never forget. A couple of turns around the ice and you'll be throwing axels before you know it."

"I never had you pegged for a figure skater, Deeks." Kensi was almost certain he was spinning a line here.

"I'm not. I played a bit of hockey though. Our practice was scheduled right after the girls' ice time." He smiled happily at the memory. "I was usually late. Boy, those girls had some great moves."

"And you've kept up with them?" Well, there was no harm in asking. Deeks usually broadcasted the news of his latest lady-friend, after all.

"Not exactly." He looked at her curiously. "Are you asking about my love-life, Kensi? Do you want to know who I'm meeting this afternoon?"

"Why would I?"

"Because you're jealous." Macy stood directly in front of her and stared directly into her eyes. "Nope, with the lighting in here, I can't tell if you've gone green. But you're not happy, are you?"

Deeks wondered why Kensi was shaking her head so vehemently. She reminded him of Monty after a bath, trying to shake the water out of his ears. "I've no idea. But why don't you come skating with us?"

"I might just do that."

"Are you completely mad? You might just fall over and break your nose. You were always lousy at things like skating, Kensi." Macy shook her head sadly. "This is not the way to win Deeks over. Believe me on that."

Why did Macy always think she knew best? She didn't know Deeks after all. She didn't know how he liked his coffee, or the way his hands moved constantly when he spoke, or any of the myriad of small things about him that had worked their way into Kensi's subconscious.

"It's a date then?" Deeks asked.

"Don't push your luck, Deeks. I'll go skating with you, but it will not be a date."

It was probably just the woollen sweater, but it felt very hot in Ops. Pushing up her sleeves, Kensi tried to pay attention as Nell pulled photographs up onto the screen and the briefing began.

* * *

><p>"Can you skate?" Standing in the queue to collect their hire skates, Kensi was beginning to sense that perhaps this had not been one of her better ideas.<p>

"A bit. Not brilliantly though."

It was all right for Nell, Kensi thought. She didn't have that far too fall, after all. It was just the two of them who were waiting in line, as Eric had cried off and it transpired both Hetty and Deeks had their own skates and were decidedly sniffy about hired ones. Oh well, they could be incompetent together and then laugh about it later on. At least Macy was no longer around, messing things up.

"I tried once. I spent most of the time on my butt." After half an hour, the backside of Kensi's jeans had been soaking wet and she'd looked as if she'd peed her pants. That had been enough to ensure she never repeated the experience.

Nell gave her a sympathetic glance. "That's a common mistake. You have to lean slightly forwards – to compensate for the shift in gravity."

"I thought you said you couldn't skate?"

"I never said that. Actually, I had lessons for three years. But when I realised I was never going to be great, I gave up." Nell only liked pursing interests in which she could excel. Expending a whole lot of time and energy to only be mediocre just wasn't worth it to her.

Kensi sighed and looked out onto the almost-empty rink. Few people had been tempted to venture out onto the ice on Christmas Day and they virtually had the place to themselves, which meant that her ineptitude was going to be even more glaringly obvious. Oh well, she could stagger around the edge of the rink and hold onto the barrier. And then after a couple of circuits, she'd make a (hopefully) graceful exit. That sounded like a plan.

"Chicken." Macy had suddenly materialised right at her side. "Get out there and give it your best shot. You could hold his hand, you know."

"I don't want to hold Deeks' hand."

Nell gave Kensi a peculiar look. "I never said you did." Deeks had been right when he'd said Kensi was acting strangely.

"You are such a bad liar, Kensi Blye. Any minute now and your nose is going to start growing."

A little of Macy went a long way, it seemed. A very long way.

Skate boots were torture. There was no other word for it. They pinched dreadfully, and by the time Kensi had finally finished tying the laces tight enough to satisfy Nell, who kept on muttering about broken ankles and other such delights, the blood circulation in her feet was nearly cut off. Deeks was already out on the ice, and his hockey boots looked much more comfortable than the narrow pair of figure boots Nell had insisted Kensi put on.

"They have two edges – so you can grip the ice much more easily than in hockey skates."

That was easy for Nell to say. The moment Kensi stepped out onto the ice, she felt just like Bambi – out of control and incredibly vulnerable. It was difficult to stay upright and impossible to stay still, and she could feel herself starting to topple over backwards when a pair of hands gripped her around the waist. She leaned back into Deeks' embrace with a sigh of relief.

"Try to relax a little. You're safe. I'm not going to let you fall."

Slowly, Deeks moved so that he was facing Kensi and held out his hands. "I'm going to skate backwards and you don't have to do anything. Just hold onto my hands, lean forward slightly and let me do all the work."

His hands were large and warm and Kensi held onto them for grim death.

"That's it. You're doing really well. Just keep your feet together." Deeks skated backwards, careful to go as slowly as possible, aware that Kensi looked as if she was being subjected to a cruel and unusual form of punishment.

"Look at me. Kensi – look up and look at me."

Slowly, she raised her chin and met his eyes.

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you. I promise."

"Okay." Her voice was slightly shaky and her smile was decidedly wobbly, but Kensi realised there were a lot worse things she could be doing right now than standing here, holding onto Deeks' hands. She managed a tentative smile and saw it reflected and then magnified a hundred times.

"Good girl. Now, try to enjoy yourself. This is meant to be fun."

Compared to root canal surgery without anaesthesia, it possibly was – but only just.


	7. Chapter 7

After a couple of turns around the ice, Kensi managed to relax enough to be able to start moving her feet gingerly. It certainly wasn't fun – but neither was it quite as bad as she'd feared.

"How about I hold one hand and Nell takes the other?"

Kensi wanted to protest: Deeks made her feel safe and besides, she liked holding his hands and looking into his eyes, rather than at the treacherous ice. But clearly he thought this was a good idea, and it couldn't be too much fun for him, skating around backwards at a snail's pace, so she agreed. Nell glided over, making it look effortless and elegant.

"Shall we show Kensi what real skating is all about?" Her cheeks were pink and her eyes sparkled.

"Take it easy," Deeks warned. "She's still finding her feet."

For no good reason at all, Kensi felt a warm glow when he said that. Normally she would have protested if any man had acted protectively towards her, but this was different somehow.

Nell pulled a face. "You're no fun at all." Nevertheless, she took Kensi's hand and started to skate at a moderate pace, as Deeks encouraged Kensi to keep moving her feet, giving her tips and pointers.

"Just shift your balance slightly as you move your foot forward. And don't push straight forward – move your foot just a little bit to the side."

It all seemed very complicated, and yet they made it seem so simple. "I suppose you started young?"

"My Dad had me on the ice just about as soon as I could walk. No skates, of course – he just used to tow me around. And then I got those skates with the double blades. I guess I was about three or four when I got my first pair of boots." That had probably been his best Christmas ever, because in the afternoon they had gone skating together, just the two of them. Deeks could still remember the smell of the ice rink, that evocative mixture of freezing cold underlaid with the scent of gently rotting wood.

Usually Kensi took Deeks' childhood reminiscences with a large pinch of salt, but this time she had the feeling he was telling the truth. There was just something in his voice and there was a faraway look in his eyes. "So your Dad skated?"

"He used to play hockey. I thought if I played hockey, then maybe he'd like me a bit more." Deeks squeezed her hand. "And then I found out I loved the game, so I kept it up, even after Dad was gone." It had been one way to try to block out all the hurt and guilt – by trying to become a better hockey player than his father. And the game gave him plenty of opportunity to get rid of some of his pent-up anger and aggression.

It was probably silly, but Deeks always thought about his father each time he stepped out onto this ice. They'd had a lot of good times together when they were skating – and while it didn't exactly make up for all the rest, somehow it seemed important to remember the positive things, especially today, of all days.

Hetty was in the centre of the ice, solemnly cutting complicated patterns with intense concentration, carving the detail into the ice and then retracing her moves. Lost in a world of her own, her mind ran back across the years to distant location in central Germany, to a frozen lake surrounded by mountains and underneath a velvet-blue sky studded with stars and to a man who had held her hand as they skated together and told he would never leave her. He had lied, of course because his death six months later was still a bitter pain, the memory still green and sore all these years later, but the memory of that night had never tarnished and still shone as clearly in her mind as if it had only been yesterday.

By now, Kensi was beginning to feel as if she was getting the hang of this skating lark. She was even confident enough to drop Nell's hand, although she felt no such compunction to let go of Deeks'. Free from responsibility, Nell skated over to where Hetty was standing examining her grapevine with a critical eye.

"Are you having fun?"

To her surprise, Kensi found that she actually was. They had picked up a little speed now, and she starting to really enjoy herself. A teenager dashed past and she could see chips of ice flying up as he darted around the rink at high speed. "You make it look so easy. Isn't this a bit boring for you? Baby-sitting me when you could be having fun like him?" She nodded towards the youth.

Deeks shook his head vehemently. "Boring? When I get to hold hands with you? What's boring about that?" She caught a flash of his grin and smiled back. "Right now, I can't think of anything else I'd rather be doing. I'm getting to do my favourite thing and I'm getting to be close to my partner. Life doesn't get much better than this."

"You really are a nice guy, aren't you Deeks?" She'd thought it a thousand times: seeing how he acted around children, winning their trust instantly; the way he was with Monty, whom everyone else – including her – just dismissed as a mangy mutt; the way he accepted her barbed remarks with equanimity. Kensi had thought he was a nice guy a thousand times, but she'd never said it before. Why hadn't she said something to him before?

He was silent as he thought for a few moments. "In the words of Elwood P Dowd, _'In this world you can be 'oh, so smart' or 'oh, so pleasant'. Well, for years I was smart. I recommend pleasant. You may quote me.'_ Great lines. You could do a lot worse than follow that creed."

"Elwood P Dowd?" Kensi wrinkled her nose as she tried to think who he was. "_Blues Brothers?"_

"That was Jake and Elwood," Deeks corrected "No, Elwood P Dowd is the main character in _'Harvey'_ – you know, the film where Jimmy Stewart is friends with a giant white rabbit called Harvey? And only he can see Harvey. Everyone else thinks he's just a bit strange. Harmless, but strange." He often felt like he had a lot in common with Mister Dowd.

"Sounds good." Kensi could definitely empathise with Elwood. It wasn't easy having a constant companion who was not only dead, but kept poking her nose in where it wasn't wanted. At least Macy had the tact to have made herself scarce right now.

She thought about those lines some more. Deeks was smart – there was absolutely no doubt about that. He was probably the smartest person on the team, even if he didn't flaunt his college education and even if there was no way you would ever look at him and imagine that he'd passed the bar exam. He was street-smart too, and yet he accepted his place as low-man on the NCIS totem pole without a murmur. It must have been hard for Deeks, she realised, to be pushed into the team, knowing that he wasn't watched and that his every move was being watched and dissected. None of them had made it easy for him. In fact, she and Sam had made it as difficult as possible. And how had Deeks reacted? With a smile and a joke and unfailing good humour. What had he thought of them?

"I'm sorry." If there was one thing Kensi had learnt recently, it was that it was never too late.

"For what? Not being to skate or for not knowing who Elwood P Dowd was?"

"For everything." Years ago, her father had counselled her to never apologise, to never explain: it was a sign of weakness, because you should always have the courage of your convictions, he'd said. And he was wrong, Kensi realised. Completely and utterly wrong. Everyone made mistakes but what really mattered was that you recognised those mistakes, learned from them, apologised for them and then you moved on from them. That was what made you a better person.

"There's no need to apologise. You're the best partner I've ever had. Working with you is great."

But I don't want to just be your partner! Kensi screamed inwardly. Why can't you see that?

"Likewise," she replied. "We make a great team." Why had it taken Macy to make her realise what she was missing? And where was Macy, exactly? Kensi scanned the area, but there was no sign of a tall blonde in a white shirt and dark pants. She wasn't quite sure if that was good or bad.

"Simply the best." Deeks did one of those fancy manoeuvres that brought him to a sudden standstill. "Kensi – I've been meaning to say… To tell you something. For ages now. We need to talk." His face was grave and he couldn't quite meet her eyes.

"I'm listening." And her heart was beating at least twice as fast as normal.

"I'm really glad you didn't go away for the holidays."

"So am I." And it was absolutely true, Kensi thought. "That's what you've been thinking about? What you wanted to say?"

"Not exactly." He raised his head and his grip tightened. "It's just that – I know things between us are complicated."

"Our thing?" she suggested. Come on Deeks, hse thought. Just say it.

"Yeah. Our thing."

"Are you trying to tell me that it is something?" There was no way Kensi could keep the thrill of expectation out of her voice.

As Kensi spoke, she could see that Deeks was distracted, that he was looking somewhere over her left shoulder and, as she watched, she could see his face light up.

"Deeks? What is it?"

He dropped her hands. "Stay right here Do not move. I'll be right back." He sped off, leaving Kensi stranded, like a lone polar bear on a solitary iceberg.

Exactly where did he think she might possibly go? Kensi was left standing in the middle of the rink, realising she'd never quite felt so vulnerable in her whole life as she watched Deeks race over to where a girl was waving to him.

"He's some mover, isn't he?" Macy appeared at her side as if by magic and executed a technically perfect Bielman spin. "I've always wanted to do that," she said with great satisfaction. "Especially as I could never skate for toffee when I was being alive. There are certain advantages to being dead. Not that many, admittedly, but this is definitely cool."

"Who is that?" Kensi watched as Deeks did another fancy hockey stop at the barricade surrounding the rink, right beside that girl, who was now leaning forward with her arms outstretched. She looked very pleased to see him and Deeks… Deeks looked happier than she had ever seen him, Kensi realised. Her own joy started to seep away.

"His friend, I guess. The one he'd arranged to meet, remember? Macy took a longer look. "She's very attractive, isn't she?"

It was true: she looked to be about Kensi's age, tall and slim with dark blonde hair cut in a textured bob, pale skin and crimson lips that left a bright imprint on Deeks' right cheek when she kissed him. There was no reason to feel jealous, Kensi told herself. Nor reason at all. She turned to Macy, wobbling terribly, so that the older woman had to take hold of her elbow.

"Does his friend have a name?" I thought he preferred brunettes? That's what Ray said. I should have known better than to trust Ray.

"Of course she does. Everyone has a name. Except poor Callen. I used to call him George."

"Why George?" And why did Macy keep going off at these incredible tangents? Coulnd't she just stick to the matter at hand?

"No particular reason. Just because. Actually, it just felt a bit weird, gasping out 'Callen!' in ecstatic joy. Kind of like I was in a film about British public school boys. So it was easier to call him George. Gorgeous George." A faraway look crept across Macy's face.

Kensi thought it was time to get back to the subject – namely exactly who was this female who was kissing her partner? "She seems to know Deeks pretty well." Judging by the way she was cupping her hands around his face, that was an understatement. And now she had one hand on the back of his neck, all the better to stare into his eyes, presumably.

"She does, doesn't she? She seems to like him a whole lot too. And who can blame her?"

As they spoke, Deeks' friend disentangled herself from his embrace and climbed over the barrier, right into his waiting arms. As she watched Deeks help her down, Kensi's heart sank a little further into her boots – those damned white boots that were pinching her toes so hard it brought tears to her eyes.

"They make a cute couple." Macy took a tighter hold of her arm, because Kensi's knees were now wobbling so hard now that she was in danger of crashing down onto the ice. "Don't do anything stupid."

As if. As if she could possible do anything. Kensi thought back to what Deeks had said – how there was something he had to tell her, and his words took on a new meaning, one she had never even considered before, because she'd always presumed that Deeks would never have a serious relationship, that he'd always be available whenever she decided the time was right. She played him along, because she'd always thought that all she would ever have to do was to crook her little finger and Deeks would come running. How wrong she had been. How completely and utterly misguided she had been. Kensi felt as if she was completely frozen to the spot and unable to move or even to think coherently as she watched the couple draw nearer. Deeks' friend was wearing a short skirt that fluttered as she glided across the ice, and a tight-fitting top. No hideous sweater for her. And of course she could skate. She looked elegant and poised and alive with happiness.

"Kensi. I'd like you to meet Louise."

They were almost exactly the same height, she realised, looking into Louise's amber eyes and taking hold of the outstretched hand. It was only because she was a professional, a seasoned agent who was trained to be ultra-observant, that Kensi noticed Louise's left hand was bare of any rings. Which didn't mean anything of course. What better time to propose and proffer a diamond ring than Christmas Day?

"Kensi. Kensi Blye. We work together."

She didn't want to say any more, not knowing what cover story Deeks had given out this time. It was easier not to say anything, to just play along with him. Just like she'd played him along since the day they met – Deeks took a step forward and Kensi took a step backwards – that was the way it worked. He made an advance, and she rebuffed it. That was the way it had always been. Deeks wasn't supposed to go out and find someone else and fall in love with her – he was supposed to wait until she was ready. That was the way it was supposed to be. So why had he gone and changed all the rules without telling her? It wasn't fair.

"Life's not fair," Macy reminded her. "Sometimes life really sucks."

"I know you do." Louise smiled happily and then looked at Deeks. "Marty's told me all about you, Kensi."

"I'll bet he missed out all the bits about how hot you are," Macy whispered. "Keep your chin up, Kensi." Her words made Kensi stiffen her spine a fraction. She wouldn't let them know, they would never guess.

"Has he now?" Kensi looked at Deeks for confirmation. "I could probably tell you a few stories about _Marty_." She gave just a little too much emphasis to his name, because Louise looked startled.

"Like the time he nearly peed his pants after that explosion?" Lousie shared a look laden with meaning with Deeks, and Kensi felt a cold gnaw of pain in her chest. She knew, Kensi realised. Louise knew about NCIS. This was worse than she'd thought. It had to be really serious if Deeks had told Louise where he really worked. But she could do this, because she was a professiona, Kensi told hersef sternly. All she had to do was to pretend that this was another mission and that she was undercover and she would be just fine. She would keep her dignity and then she would go home and… and she didn't want to think any further than that. She would just get through this.

Fixing a smile on her face, Kensi laid her hand on Louise's arm. "Did he tell you about the time he got a bashful bladder and couldn't pee at all? And then there was the time when he was taking a leak in the desert and this tiny little snake slithered up and…"

And why was she fixated about Deeks peeing? A psychologist would have field day with that.

"Still scared of snakes, are you Marty?" Louise leant comfortably into his embrace.

"I knew you two would get on. You're going to have so much fun tearing me apart, aren't you?" Deeks held out his other hand - the one that wasn't wrapped around Louise. "Come on,Kensi – let's skate some more. You're going to get cold, just standing there."

Numbly, Kensi obeyed, finding herself sandwiched in between them. It wasn't supposed to be like this: this was not the way things were supposed to be at all. Why had Macy brought her back to this reality only to break her heart? She endured one circuit, made her excuses and went to sit on the bleachers.

"They look good together, don't they?" Macy sat down beside her.

"Yes. They do." Kensi bent down and started to unlace her boots. She didn't think she could bear to watch Deeks and Louise, skating together as if it was something they'd done a hundred times before, laughing and joking, swinging one another around and making everything look so easy and so very natural. They looked like a couple and that hurt more than anything. It hurt more than it should, because she and Deeks had never really had anything – there had been a time when they might have had something – but that time had gone and was now in the past. She'd turned back time once, but Kensi knew she wouldn't be able to do it again.

"I'm really sorry. I had no idea."

"Yeah. Me too, Macy." She'd never been so sorry for anything in her whole life.

Finally the laces were loose enough to pull the boots off. The rush of blood back to her extremities almost made Kensi cry out with a mixture of pain and relief.

"Louise seems nice."

"She does." Kensi wasn't sure if that made it better or worse: how could she hate somebody who made Deeks happy? Deeks deserved to be happy – but he was supposed to be happy with her – not with Louise.


	8. Chapter 8

"This new case is going to keep you busy," Macy said after a long pause, more to break the uncomfortable silence than anything else.

"That's true." Kensi wriggled her toes and was relieved to find they still worked. Why were skate boots so infernally uncomfortable? Why did people willingly put themselves through all this pain and misery? "I guess I'll head back to the Mission and pick up one of the pool cars." There was no way she wanted to cadge a ride home with Deeks and Louise. Sitting in the back seat with Monty, watching them exchange covert little glances would only be adding insult to injury and was more than she could cope with right now.

"Good idea." Macy patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. "Kensi? I really am sorry. The big guy upstairs never said anything about this."

"It's not your fault. I mean, there's never any guarantees, is there?"

"Ain't that the truth? I'll see you tomorrow morning then."

One minute Macy was there: and then the next instant, she was gone. That seemed to be rather a recurrent theme in Kensi's life right at the moment. She stood up slowly and began to walk away from the rink, only too conscious that out there on the ice Louise was spinning around, her hair flying out like a golden bell and Deeks was standing applauding her. When she finally came to a standstill, she cocked her head slightly, as if asking a question and Deeks opened his arms in answer. The last thing Kensi saw before she could bear it no longer was the two of them hugging in the centre of the rink. What was it about Christmas that always seemed to climb up and bite her on the butt? Why was everyone else so damned happy and she was alone again? Why was it that people always seemed to choose Christmas to walk out and leave her all alone once again?

* * *

><p>"You need to wake up."<p>

It felt like there was a small earthquake shaking the bed, but when Kensi finally cranked her eyes open, she saw that it was only Macy, who was bouncing up and down on the mattress as if she was on a trampoline.

"It's still early." If pushed, Kensi could be up and out of the door in fifteen minutes flat. And by her reckoning, that gave her at least another hour in bed.

"We've got a lot to do."

"We? Last time I looked, you were dead."

"What difference does that make? I still want to look my best. It's not every day you see your former lover, after all."

"I thought only I could see you?"

"That's right." Macy was rifling through Kensi's hair paraphernalia and experimenting with putting her hair up. "Does this work?"

"It's not bad – but it's not really you." Macy was the sleek and polished sort, and a dishevelled up-do sat strangely above her patrician features

"Maybe I should curl it?" She looked at the heated rollers speculatively.

"Macy – what's the point? You're dead and Callen can't see you. So why bother?"

She looked hurt. "I want to look my best for him. I thought you would understand."

And she did. Kensi understood exactly, because she could still remember how absurdly disappointed she'd been when Deeks hadn't even noticed her new bangs. Neither had Sam or Callen, of course, but that was different. Deeks hadn't said a single word. Did that mean he didn't like her new hairstyle or was it simply that he hadn't noticed?

"Come on then." She threw the bedcovers aside. "Let's make you beautiful." And while she was it at, Kensi would endeavour to make herself look a little less haggard. A sleepless night mulling over heartbreak was not exactly conducive to producing a fresh and rested look. She had the idea that any makeup was going to have to be applied in industrial-strength quantities before it would make any difference.

And if Kensi went to a little extra trouble, it wasn't for any good reason. It certainly wasn't because the lovely Louise probably woke up looking beautiful. And it definitely wasn't because she was seeing Deeks again today, because he never noticed anything about her – unless she was wearing something low-cut and tight fitting. And even then, that meant nothing, because Deeks was a man and half the time he acted as if his brain was in this pants. Besides which, Deeks would react that way to any female under seventy and wearing something that was even slightly revealing. With the possible exception of Hetty, of course – but she wouldn't put it past Deeks to try to flirt with Hetty.

"Do you reckon her breasts are better than mine?" Kensi looked at herself critically in the mirror, turning from side to side and then held her arms up for good measure.

"Louise's?" Macy watched her critically. "I don't know. I mean, yours aren't bad but…"

"Hers are great? I know, you don't have to sugar coat it."

"She's probably really dim." Clearly Macy was trying to be supportive, but who cared about brains when you had a pretty face, a great body and fabulous breasts?

"I bet she isn't. I bet she's a nuclear scientist or something like that." Sure, Deeks liked a nice bit of arm candy, but he also loved to talk. Boy, did he love to talk. Deeks could talk the hind leg off a donkey. And a good part of his flirting was verbal. There was no way Deeks would ever be serious about a woman who could not hold her own in conversation with him. So it stood to reason that Louise would be smart and funny. In her mind's eye, Kensi could see Deeks and Louise walking along the beach at sunset, hand in hand and heads together as they conversed, with Monty gambolling happily in the surf. Great – her brain was officially melting, because now she was conjuring up images that could have come straight off the cover of a Harlequin romance.

"Men. Why do we even bother? We'd be so much off without them."

Macy gave her a sceptical look. "That was somewhat less than convincing. Why do we bother? It's simple: because there are some men we can't bear to live without. Even when we're dead." She stared at herself in the mirror and met Kensi's eyes. "I still love him so much, you know? Callen, that is. I love him so much that it hurts."

"I know." Kensi knew exactly what Macy meant and she knew exactly how she felt.

"So let's make ourselves gorgeous – and show them what they're missing." Macy shrugged. "Well, you can show Deeks what he's missing and I can sit in the corner and drool over Callen."

"That sounds like a plan." Maybe it wasn't the best plan in the world, but it was better than nothing.

* * *

><p>"Hold me back." Macy staggered dramatically as they entered Ops. "Just look at him. He's even better than I remembered." She went to stand directly in front of Callen and stared intently into his eyes, bending slightly at the knees in order to do so.<p>

Trying very hard to ignore Macy's antics, Kensi made a determined effort to behave as normally as possible. "Don't tell me – Deeks is late? Again?"

"He's out on a coffee run. The machine downstairs is broken, so Deeks volunteered to go out for supplies." Callen had the strangest feeling that he was being watched – almost as if he was under surveillance and it made him feel uneasy.

"What's up?" Sam watched as his partner shivered convulsively. "Did a goose walk over your grave, or something?"

"I'd love to goose him." Macy looked at Callen's groin speculatively, at which point Kensi decided this was the ideal time to strategically avert her eyes and stare intently at the new information up on the screen.

"That's _Cavalier_, isn't it?" A brand-new club, _Cavalier_ was staying very determinedly under the radar, but news spread quickly amongst certain portions of LA and only three weeks after opening, it was rumoured to be the hottest ticket in town, even though it catered to an exclusive clientele.

"We'll wait until Mr Deeks returns before we go any further, if you don't mind, Ms Blye." Hetty bestowed a beatific smile on her team. "I trust you all had a very happy Christmas?"

"It was chaotic," Sam mumbled. Christmas with young children always was, in his experience. "Callen was doing one of his nocturnal rambles around the house and my kid thought it was Santa."

"I do hope he wasn't naked," Macy said in a piercing whisper. "That could seriously damage the poor child for life."

"I said I was sorry." From the tone of Callen's voice it was clear that he considered the subject had been done to death.

Sam clearly disagreed. "It took us nearly an hour to get her back to sleep. And then she was back up again at six thirty."

"Make that five fifteen. I managed to keep her entertained for over an hour before she went through to you."

"How?" Sam shook his head in sorrow, thought about things for a moment and then got worried. "Please tell me you didn't? We've talked about this before and I told you she's too young."

"She has to learn sometime, Sam. Besides, I was desperate."

"You promised, G."

"What else was I supposed to do?"

Macy waggled her finger in his face. "Naughty boy. I do hope you didn't do anything too bad. Sam could pull you apart into little, tiny pieces – without even thinking about it. And I kind of like you the way you are."

"Stay in bed like any civilised person."

"Like I said, I didn't know what else to do."

"I've told you a hundred times: girls do not play poker. Not nice girls, anyway. And definitely not my daughter."

"I play poker," Kensi reminded him.

"Which pretty much proves Sam's point." Deeks dumped the coffee down. "I got extra shots for everyone."

"Yeah – you look kind of shattered. Good day yesterday?" Callen was only too glad to change the subject.

"It was great."

"Did Louise enjoy herself?" Nell asked, with a seeming air of innocence that didn't fool Kensi for one single second.

"Louise?" Surely this was a set-up and Sam and Callen had rehearsed that? It was just a little too perfectly co-ordinated to be co-incidental.

"Deeks' _friend_." You could actually see the quotation marks around Nell's remark, Kensi thought, so there was no need for her to put both sets of index and middle fingers up in the air and make that gesture. That was quite uncalled for. Who would have thought that someone so small and so sweet-looking could be quite so arch?

"Deeks has got a friend? Exactly how good a friend is she?" Sam sensed there was more to this than met the eye. And it certainly wasn't like Deeks to be so reticent. The detective was studiously avoiding eye contact with everyone by studying his feet intently. It looked as if there was some mileage to be gotten out of this.

"He is just adorable when he blushes, don't you think Kensi? Not as cute as Callen, but really quite edible Wouldn't you just love to lick him?"

What Kensi would love, she thought, was for Macy to disappear in a puff of smoke.

"I'd say that Deeks has got a very good friend indeed, judging by the way they couldn't keep their hands off each other yesterday." That hadn't quite come out the way Kensi had hoped it would and was conscious that the whole team turned and looked at her. "I was just saying." Okay, she'd probably said too much. Way too much.

"Louise is a very good friend." For once, Deeks was being close-mouthed. Taking a sip of coffee, he gave Hetty a pleading look.

"And good friends are something one simply cannot have too many of. Sadly, not everyone is so lucky. Take the late Lieutenant Mark Foley."

Perfectly on cue Nell pulled a photograph onto the screen, as Deeks gave a sigh of relief. Nobody could segue like Hetty and he was aware that he owed her a huge debt.

The picture was an informal snap and showed a young man in dress uniform, smiling and happy. The next photograph was altogether different and appeared to have been taken at the scene of a crime, judging from the composition, the harsh lighting and the fact that Lt. Foley was clearly dead. Nobody could have survived that sort of catastrophic head injury, after all. His eyes were still open, so that the viewers got the uncanny impression that he was looking directly at them.

"Nobody saw anything, nobody heard anything. And from all accounts, Lt. Foley was a talented and popular officer, dedicated to his men."

"The guy sounds too good to be true."

"You sound rather jaded, Mr Callen. There are still a few good men – and women – left in this world, and it appears that Lt. Foley was one of them."

"So why would anyone want to kill him Or was it just a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time?" Callen asked. There was something about the atmosphere in Ops today that was setting his nerves jangling. "And why are we involved?"

"For two very good reasons: Lt. Foley has a Masters Degree in Fine Art. He was on secondment to the War Crimes Department, assisting with the identification of artefacts looted from Iraq. However, he had previously made somewhat of a specialism in tracing works of art stolen during World War II, and assisting the rightful heirs to retrieve them. This made him less than popular with certain far-right organisations. In my assessment, his current employment or his previous area of expertise could have made him a target."

"There's something more, isn't there?" Deeks couldn't help noticing that Foley was around the same age as himself. It was scary to be confronted with such brutal proof of mortality this early in the morning.

"There is indeed. Lt. Foley was gay. And as you all know, _Cavalier_ is a gay club. He was found in the service alley to the rear, just after midnight on Christmas Day. It seems unlikely that the two facts are unrelated."

"He wasn't going to midnight mass, that's for sure." Kensi looked at Hetty. "So, we start digging?"

"On the contrary, our role in this operation will be undercover. You are going to be working in a gallery Lt. Foley had tentively identified as a possible conduit for receiving stolen works of art."

"I just hope Deeks has still got those crib cards from last time." Kensi's lack of knowledge about art had become something of a standing joke with the team.

Kensi pretended that she hadn't heard that merry quip. Little did they know that since then she'd been mugging up in her spare time, visiting galleries and auction houses and devouring everything she could find on the subject. "And the guys? What are they doing?"

"They'll be concentrating on the club. Mr Hanna will be working with the security detail, while Mr Callen and Mr Deeks will be concentrating on the entertainment side."

"Please tell me that G isn't singing?" There was only so much Sam could take of his partner channelling Michael Buble channelling Frank Sinatra. A song twice removed wasn't really a song in his book.

"He won't be singing."

Deeks looked at her in horror as he realised the import of this statement. "No way. I refuse. I absolutely refuse."

"I'm afraid I have to insist."

"Hetty, be reasonable. I can't dance – you saw how I was that time with Kensi."

"I know exactly what I saw, Mr Deeks," Hetty said, in a knowing tone of voice. "It was not dissimilar to watching two high school students being very careful not to get too close to one another. And besides, there will no waltzing required. I think you'll manage just fine. You have the necessary agility, poise and balance for what I have in mind."

"I'm taller than you," Deeks informed Callen. "So that means I get to lead."

"Exactly what do you have in mind?" Sam asked curiously, seeing that Callen was currently incapable of forming a coherent sentence as he tried to process this latest assignment. "Other than making them strut their stuff on stage at a gay club?" The prospect was absolutely priceless.

"Tight shorts, I hope." Macy licked her lips. "And not a whole lot else. Callen is going to look so adorable."

"I am not dancing with Deeks." Callen finally managed to find his voice. "No way."

"Nobody is asking you to. You will merely be sharing a stage." Clearing her throat, Hetty fixed them both with a hard stare. "And it is going to take considerable work and application on both your parts, so be prepared for some hard graft."

"Not to mention a full-body wax. Which I am certainly going to watch." Needless to say, this was Macy.

"You have until New Year's Eve to perfect your act, gentlemen."

"Our act? What exactly is 'our act' when it's at home?"

"Whatever you want it to be, Mr Callen. But it had better be good, because you are going to be Lady Gaga's backing dancers – and you know how I feel about the Gaga." Hetty was clearly bursting with pride at having managed to pull off this undoubted coup. "So do not put me to shame. I'm counting on you."

"I'm counting on Callen to scream like a girl when they wax him down below. What do you reckon about Deeks?"

Kensi looked straight at him. "I reckon Deeks is going to need all the help he can get." She rubbed her hands together with glee. "And as for Callen…" She looked at him and shook her head.

"I can dance."

"G, last time we went clubbing and you hit the dance floor, I had to stop one lady from calling the paramedics." Sam turned to the rest of the team. "She though he was having a seizure."

"They need help, Hetty. And Lady Gaga deserves only the best," Kensi said slyly. She knew how much her boss adored the singer.

"I can help!" Macy was bouncing up and down on the spot.

"Would you be prepared to assist, Ms Blye?" There might have been a gleam in Hetty's eye, but then again, it might just have been the lighting in Ops: it was hard to tell.

"I suppose I could. After work, of course." Kensi gave Deeks a sympathetic smile. "I do hope Louise won't mind me keeping you behind?"

Deeks just nodded in an abstracted way. He'd been to a few gay clubs in his times undercover and he knew exactly what the dancers did – and did not – wear. And he was expected to dance on new Year's Eve? Well, they'd better provide him with some proper support, or it wasn't just that big ball in Times Square that would be dropping at midnight.

Callen was numb with shock: dancing? Dancing with Deeks? Dancing, half naked, with Deeks and Lady Gaga in a gay club on New Year's Eve? What fresh hell was this?

"I'm too old for all this," he muttered.

In an instant, Macy was at his side. "You're never too old until you're dead. And you'll be brilliant. There are a lot of people out there who would pay loads of money to see you shaking you tush – me included. Even if I did used to get to grope it for free." She turned to Kensi. "He really does have a great ass, you know, even if it's a bit furry. But a good old "back, sack and crack" wax job will take care of that. And then it really will be as smooth as a baby's bottom."

Kensi almost felt sorry for them: the sheer hell of waxing was not to be entered into lightly. But it would give them a small insight into what women endured all the time, so it might just be a valuable lesson. And she was really going to enjoy choreographing a routine for them. What a pity if it just happened to eat into Deeks' downtime, so that he didn't see as much of Louise as he'd planned.

* * *

><p><em>I really have no idea why so many people don't like the idea of Deeks with Louise. She seems perfect for him, don't you think? Evil plot bunny certainly thinks so.<em>

_You may have noticed that crack-fic plot bunny has started nibbling his way into the story - what else could possibly explain the prospect of Deeks and Callen dancing with Lady Gaga?_


	9. Chapter 9

_I'm posting a little earlier today, as a wee Christmas present! I'll try to post a further installment tomorrow, but that depends on the champagne consumption..._

_Anyway, Kensi begins to get her revenge. And revenge, as we all know, is sweet._

* * *

><p>"I used to dance. I still remember quite a lot. I could help you train them. Maybe even work up a routine." Macy did a couple of plies and then jetéd her way across the room, a manoeuvre that set the floor trembling, and one which made Hetty raise her head in consternation.<p>

"Check the sensors, Mr Beale. There are no earthquakes predicted, but one can never be too careful."

"Please let me help with the dancing, Kensi. Please?"

Kensi nodded, as discretely as possible, and Macy pirouetted with joy, nearly sending Nell flying, which was actually no more than she deserved, given how sneaky she'd been earlier on with that totally unnecessary and uncalled for comment about Deeks' 'friend'. Those quotation marks still irked Kensi. Still, maybe she could work out some of that anger? After all, Deeks and Callen were going to need all the practice they could get – and then some.

"How about you guys get changed and we can have a quick dance session in the gym?"

That brought Macy to a standstill. "A session with Callen? Don't tempt me. Make sure they change into something suitable, Kensi. No, make them change into something very UNsuitable. The more unsuitable the better."

Incorrigible was not the word for Macy, but it would do for starters. It was beginning to become clear to Kensi that Macy and Callen had enjoyed a very active sex life. This wasn't exactly something she had ever considered in relation to either of them, and it was strangely disconcerting. It was also something she wanted to blot out of her mind as quickly as possible.

"I've got a lot to do," Callen said quickly, and Deeks nodded eagerly. There was just a chance they could get out of this for today, and something might turn up overnight that blew the case wide-open, in which case they could celebrate New Year in the traditional way – by getting blind drunk.

"Make dancing your first priority," Hetty said, in a tone that gave no room for debate. "Do it for the Gaga, gentlemen."

Kensi could not help noticing that Deeks looked distinctly bilious at this idea. She decided to take pity on them, and give them an easy ride For today. Tomorrow, they would really get down to work and the guys would find they had muscles in places they had never even dreamt off.

"I'll give you both some basic exercises to do and then you can practice them at home. Maybe Louise could help you, Deeks?"

"Maybe you could just butt out?" Deeks gave her a smile that exposed a lot of teeth, but which involved no humour whatsoever.

"That's not a very constructive attitude. And you've got less than a week before you're onstage, remember?"

"How could we possibly forget?" Callen was only too aware that he and Deeks had drawn the short straw in all of this. A straw that was so short that you practically required a microscope to see it. Sam was doing security? Well bully for Sam. He could do that in his sleep. How come Sam didn't have to make a complete idiot of himself? And Kensi was going to waft around a gallery, no doubt with a pencil skirt and a pair of glasses perched on the end of her nose. That wasn't exactly a hardship, was it? And meanwhile he and Deeks were going to be exposed to public ridicule, and worse than that, very possibly expose themselves at the same time.

"I will personally arrange your costumes, gentlemen." It was as if Hetty could read his mind, Callen thought and then tried to compose his thoughts, just in case she could.

Deeks threw her a mournful look. "That's exactly what I was afraid of." He still couldn't forget the shiny suit she'd forced Callen into on the Darva case and had studiously managed to avoid her taste since then.

As they followed Kensi on the way down to the gym, Deeks was chanting something underneath his breath in time with their footsteps. Callen couldn't make out all the words, but the bits he caught sounded suitably doom-laden.

"Half a league, half a league  
>Half a league onward,<br>Into the gym of death  
>Went the two suckers…<br>Was there a man afraid?"

He turned to Callen. "Too bloody right there was! I'm petrified. Look, my hands are shaking."

Going into a gun fight, or dealing with coked-up dealers – that was fine, but dancing? It was practically a fate worse than death. Dancing with Kensi had been bad enough, but dancing under her instruction and her beady glare was completely different.

Sure enough, when Callen looked, Deeks' hands were trembling like leaves in the wind. "Count yourself lucky. I'm shaking all over." His knees felt as if they were knocking like a pair of castanets.

Kensi halted outside the changing rooms. "Gym shorts and running shoes. And make it quick. I haven't got all day."

"She missed her true vocation in life. She should have been a dominatrix." Deeks had intended the comment to be _sotto voce_, but Hetty was following them and she had ears like a hawk.

"And who is 'she' exactly, Mr Deeks? The cat's mother?"

Correctly judging that no response was called for, they escaped into the blessed sanctuary of the mens' locker room. Even Hetty wouldn't follow them in there. Not unless she absolutely had to.

"I am not doing this." Callen's face was grim and set. "I am so not doing this."

If that was the case, then why was he bothering to get changed? Deeks thought. "I've learned not to even bother trying to make Kensi see sense when she's in one of her moods. Which is pretty much most of the time."

"Tell me about it." Callen kicked off his shoes, and Macy lay down comfortably on a bench, where she could get the best possible view of proceedings.

"I either just ignore her and do my own thing, or cut her off at the chase," Deeks continued, pulling off his shirt. Macy sat up and began to pay a little more attention as he started to unbutton his jeans.

In his dreams, Callen thought. "Or you just do what she says in the first place, more like it. At least ninety nine times out of a hundred."

"There is that. Who wants to make life harder than it already is?"

Callen took a look at him, noting the slight pout that was always a bad sign with Deeks. One day the guy was going to have to learn to try to hide his feelings for Kensi a little bit better. "You're still sore about the whole Christmas thing, aren't you?"

"What Christmas thing?" Aggrieved innocence shone out like a candle in the night.

"The whole 'I'm going away and I don't even have a card for you thing'. Remember? A couple of days ago? Christmas Eve – right here in the Mission?"

How could he forget? That had brutal, even by Kensi's standards, Deeks thought. She looked quite bemused when he'd handed over his gift though. Clearly giving a present back had never even entered her thoughts.

"Why would I be pissed at that?" Deeks tried to look unconcerned and failed miserably.

"Why don't you tell me?" Callen invited.

"So I was pissed? Anyone would have been."

"True enough." It had been rather a public slap in the face, after all.

"You and Sam spent Christmas together," Deeks pointed out, rifling through his locker and eventually locating his gym shorts.

"That's different. I don't have a thing for Sam and he doesn't have a thing for me." Macy's heart leapt joyously in her chest as Callen slid off his jeans.

"I remember those briefs! Calvin Klein really should get you up on one of those enormous billboards!"

"And Kensi doesn't have a thing for me. She's made that perfectly clear."

There was no 'thing'. There never had been and there never would be. Except for that time when Kensi had thought he was going back to LAPD… she'd nearly said something then. And sometimes, in the early hours of the morning, when sleep was elusive, Deeks wondered what she might have said. It was just that some things were better left unspoken, because they could return to haunt you, so he'd stopped her from saying so much, realising that it wasn't fair, no matter how much he wanted to hear those words. It meant more to him than he could possible say.

"Women say one thing and mean another." That didn't sound quite as profound as Callen had hoped it might.

"When you retire, Callen, you really must take the time to write a relationship guide for all us lesser mortals. Seeing as how you're such an expert."

"Don't be sore. Learn from my mistakes." Callen sat down on the bench, just inches away from Macy, and started to tie his shoelaces. "I know what it's like, how difficult it is when you have feelings for a co-worker."

"Really?" There was a considerable disbelief in Deeks' voice.

"Really. It was nobody you knew – it was before your time. And I thought I had it made – that this was it. The real thing. The whole nine yards. Call it what you will. But she died and I realised I'd left it all too late."

There was a world of sorrow in Callen's voice and sitting at his side, Macy let the tears roll down her cheeks.

"This is different." Pulling on his shorts, Deeks elaborated further. "Kensi and I are a great team, but that's as far as it goes. And anyway… I never said I had a thing for Kensi. I never said I had feelings for her."

"You didn't have to," Callen assured him. "Of course, now you've got a new thing in your life. Called Louise." He was fishing, and he knew it.

Deeks' face was blank and unrevealing. "Louise is not a new thing. We go back a long way." He took a considered look at the senior agent. "You're going in like that?"

"I am. What's wrong?" Okay, so his shirt had seen better days, but they were only working out, after all.

"The thing with Kensi – one of the things with Kensi, I should say – is that she's always right. And she's always exactly right. The devil is in the details."

"She said to get changed – and I have."

"She's not going to like it."

Before Deeks could say anything more, Kensi voice echoed ominously through the changing area.

"Come on. We haven't got all day."

"She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed has spoken. Resistance is futile." Deeks walked out, with the happy demeanour of a lamb to the slaughter, with Callen following close at his heels. At the door, he turned around with a wry grin. "Her name is Kensi Marie Blye. They killed her father: prepare to die."

Callen had seen that film and he wondered if Deeks realised that he and Kensi had an awful lot in common with Wesley and Buttercup. He heaved a sigh and pushed open the doors. Years ago, some wag had stuck a note above the entrance to the gym: _Abandon hope all ye who enter here_. And during his time in NCIS, Callen had echoed the statement many times, but never so whole heartedly as on the twenty-sixth of December, two thousand and eleven. It was sheer hell, from the moment his trainer-clad foot set foot on the sprung floor. The only good thing was that Hetty was nowhere in sight.

"Exactly what do you think you are wearing?"

It was like a flashback to high school years and trying to sneak out of the house in a pair of acid-washed jeans – exactly the same tone of complete disdain. Well, Callen knew what Kensi was almost wearing: a sports bra and a pair of knee-length leggings that left an awful lot of flesh exposed. Flesh that Deeks was very carefully not looking at.

"Gym gear?" Callen ventured tentatively.

"I said gym shorts, didn't I?"

"You said gym shorts," Deeks confirmed, standing there bare-chested, standing almost to attention, Callen noticed. And he wasn't just talking about Deeks' posture. Interesting...

"So why do you have a shirt on?" Kensi continued.

"Because that's what I always wear. And anyway, it's cold in here."

There was a smile of grim determination of Kensi's face. "Don't worry about that. You'll soon be sweating buckets, I guarantee it. Now get that shirt off and let's get down to work."

"I love it when she's bossy," Deeks confided in an undertone. "If you picture her in black leather, with thigh-high boots and a whip, it helps quite a lot, I find."

And he was right, Callen discovered. Only he was imagining taking that whip and giving Kensi the hiding of her life after ten minutes.

"Put your feet at ten to two." She sighed at the look of blank incomprehension that greeted this. "As in ten minutes to two on a clock-face, Callen." It was like dealing with a rather less-able child.

He shuffled his feet obediently.

"Oh for the love of Mike. A five year old child could do this."

"Bring me a five year old child," Deeks whispered, and Callen nearly lost it.

Kensi hung on to the threads of her patience, but only with a considerable effort. "No, Callen – not like that. Keep your heels together and point your left foot to ten o'clock and your right foot to two o'clock– not the other way around." Was the man being deliberately obtuse or was he just lacking?

It seemed easier the other way around, Callen thought. His feet preferred it that way, as did his hips, which protested as he adjusted his stance. He was almost certain his body wasn't meant to work like this.

"Keep your legs together." Kensi probably could have phrased that better, she thought, throwing a furious glance at Deeks. "And don't even think it, okay?"

"I wouldn't dare."

"Now, keep your back straight and bend your knees." She demonstrated, executing a perfect deep plié and totally loving the way both men's jaws dropped open. "See?"

"Seeing is believing." It was a lot easier to say than to do, Deeks found, even holding onto the wall bars.

"Clench those butt muscles, Callen. And keep your butt tucked in underneath you."

Deeks couldn't resist it. "A fine maxim to go through life with."

"How come you can do this?" It was highly disconcerting the way his knees cracked so loudly when he bent down, Callen thought. How come Deeks could do this?

"Yoga." There was more than a hint of smug satisfaction in Deeks' voice.

"I thought you only did yoga to meet women?"

"I do. But I actually the yoga while I'm there. And there are added benefits – it gets you really supple and flexible. Which comes in handy."

"Is everything related to sex with you, Deeks?" Kensi asked sarcastically.

"I don't know Kensi – is it? I was talking about the benefits of keeping your joints mobile – what were you talking about?"

There were times when Kensi positively longed to smack that smug smile off his face. Or kiss him so hard that he forgot to breath. But right now, she had more subtle powers at her command. "Ten more plies, if you please. And quicker, this time."

"That's easy for her to say." Callen had the very definite idea that he would be spending the rest of the day with ice packs on his knees.

"You really are quite a sadist, aren't you Kensi?" It was difficult to tell if Macy approved or disapproved.

"Sometimes you have to suffer for your art."

"Mistress Kensi – the dominatrix" These pliés were harder than they looked, Deeks thought. He could feel the muscles in his butt starting to seize up already. And his shorts were riding up in a most uncomfortable manner.

"Shut up. For once in your life just keep that big mouth shut, Deeks." Callen didn't want Kensi any more riled up than she already was, or God only knew what fresh hell she would find to inflict upon them.

"Oh, he won't have enough breath for talking soon, I promise you that." There was a tone of immense satisfaction in Kensi's voice and a huge smile on her face as she contemplated the prospect of putting them through their paces. "Okay, you should be nicely warmed up by now, so just relax, put your feet apart, keep your legs straight and just bend down nice and slowly, letting your head drop forward and your arms swing down to the ground." She demonstrated and then surveyed them from her upside down position. "Try to relax, Callen – this is to stretch out all your muscles. And now push your head back between your knees."

"My muscles are starting to cramp," he protested. This was not natural. The human body was not designed to work like this.

"Then we'd better stretch them some more, hadn't we?" Kensi stood upright again, the better to survey her pupils. Deeks was actually a lot better at this than she'd given him credit for. And the vision of the two men, bent over double in front of her was rather eye-catching. The way Deeks' shorts were stretched across his butt made her eyes water.

"Bet you wish you had your phone and could take a photo, don't you?" Macy said, her eyes glued firmly to Callen's butt. "That would really be something to make those lonely nights go past a little faster."

"Okay, now lean forward and put the palms of your hands flat on the ground."

They both managed that without too much trouble.

"You want us to do push-ups?" Callen asked hopefully. Push-ups he could do. Push-ups were good. You knew where you were with push-ups, after all. Plus, they were manly. There was no shame in doing push-ups.

"No, I want you to walk your hands back towards your feet, keeping your legs straight all the time. Do not bend your legs."

"You cannot be serious!" Callen managed to bring his hands slightly closer to his feet, but not by much.

"Of course I'm serious. And Deeks is managing just fine."

Macy nudged her in the ribs. "Don't forget that Deeks is a lot younger than Callen. And I do not want you to rupture Callen, do you understand?"

Bully for Deeks. Callen gritted his teeth and edged his hands backwards, inch by painful inch, feeling his hamstrings protesting with considerable verve. How did Kensi make it all look so easy? Did women's bodies work differently from men's or something?

"Well done. Now, grab hold of your ankles and count to ten." Kensi was very tempted to say 'then jump, turn around three times on the spot and make a wish', but she thought that might be pushing things just a little too far. "Okay, you can relax now."

Deeks made a strange sound, half-way between a whimper and a sigh of relief and stood upright very cautiously indeed. Callen just remained frozen in position.

"Callen? I said you could move now."

"I can't." His voice was muffled, for the very good reason that his face was buried somewhere in the region of his knees.

"If you've broken him, you'll be sorry, Kensi Blye." Macy hurried to where Callen stood, still bent over double and then wafted her hand along the length of his spine. There was an audible 'click' and then Callen gradually straightened up.

"I am never doing that again," he vowed. "Never. Don't even think about asking me."

* * *

><p><em>the film that Deeks quotes from is the fabulous Princess Bride.<em>

_The plot bunnies would like to join me in saying "Merry Christmas, everyone!" _  
><em>As my darling daddy used to say "and may all your dreams come true."<br>Now, if I can just dream of Deeks tonight, maybe I'll wake up and find him in my stocking?_

_have a joyous and blessed Yuletide.  
>Maxie Kay.<em>


	10. Chapter 10

"I think both you gentlemen would benefit from some time in the sauna," Hetty said calmly, ignoring the double take Deeks gave her. Surely after nearly two years he should have been used to the fact that she moved very quietly indeed and was prone to turn up in the most unlikely places at the most inopportune times? "It will ease those muscles out a little. After you've had a good run along the beach, of course. I think four or five miles should do it."

"Excuse me?" Maybe being upside down for too long had damaged his hearing, because Callen had already had more than enough exercise for one day. Especially as he was still digesting yesterday's enormous Christmas dinner.

"You have to be in tip top shape, Mr Callen," she chided. "In the peak of physical condition. You are going to be on display, after all."

"I'm in great shape. And anyway, they'll all be looking at Lady Gaga, not us." That was the one crumb of consolation Callen had been feeding himself.

"I won't be," Macy assured him.

"Don't be so modest. Of course people will be watching you. And you want to put on a good show, don't you?"

"Not really." What Callen wanted was for Hetty to forget all about this stupid idea.

"Stop being so modest. It's very unbecoming in a man of your age. And I know exactly how competitive you are." Hetty looked meaningfully at the climbing wall and Callen had the grace to blush. One of these days, he would finally beat her to the top. It hadn't happened yet, not in over two years, but one day he would win the race – or die trying. "Besides, you don't want Mr Deeks to show you up, do you?"

"Deeks?" His voice was a good octave higher than usual. "Deeks?"

The owner of that name halted in his tracks over by the doors and gave a guilty start, having taken the opportunity to try to make his escape without being noticed. "Uh huh?" He started to slink back over, with a hang-dog air.

"Why would Deeks show me up?" Callen's voice was still rather higher than normal.

"You don't need to say it like that." Deeks sounded genuinely hurt. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because…" Callen glared at him. Wasn't it obvious? "Just because," he said lamely.

"I'm younger."

"And he's got more hair," Kensi pointed out helpfully. "Really great hair," she added and Deeks looked pleasantly pleased.

Callen really didn't see why Kensi felt she had to enter into this needless discussion. "I've got bigger muscles."

"That's not necessarily a good thing, Mr Callen. Mr Deeks is taller than you and has a leaner physique. One which might be judged to be more aesthetically pleasing."

"And I've got a better tan than you, Callen."

"That can be easily remedied. I bet you get yours out of a bottle anyway." Callen turned round to Hetty, feeling he was being attacked on all sides. "And exactly who might think Deeks has got a better body than me anyway? The crowd at a gay club? Big deal. I can live with that." He could live quite happily with that: in fact, Callen had absolutely no problem with that at all.

She should have stayed out of this, because it was nothing to do with her: this was between Hetty, Callen and Deeks. Mainly it was between Hetty and Callen and Deeks was just caught in the crossfire. But Kensi saw the look that flickered briefly across Deeks' face, before he quickly controlled it, and she remembered yesterday; she remembered, holding onto his hands, looking into his eyes and feeling so safe and secure. And that made all the difference. Two days ago, she would have held her peace and said nothing. But two days ago, Kensi had never been confronted with the hollow reality of a world in which Deeks was dead, or to acknowledge that she was only alive because Deeks had saved her. Deeks had made the biggest difference anyone ever could – he had given Kensi her life. There was more to it than that though, because she remembered a thousand other times with Deeks, the way he could make her smile, even when he was driving her mad, the way she knew him better than she had ever known any man – and still trusted him. And Deeks knew her too, he probably knew her better than anyone alive – and yet he still came back for more, despite that. Somehow, probably when she wasn't looking, Deeks had manager to get into her heart.

"I think Deeks has got a great body."

Kensi said it quietly, but she said it firmly and as the words rang out clearly in the space of the gym, Deeks' head shot up, his eyes met hers with stunned incredulity and a flash of something Kensi could not quite put her finger on. For a split second, time seemed to stand still and everything else seemed to fade into the background, so that they were the only two people on earth, while all the stars spun around them. A small smile flashed briefly across his face, but one that was tinged with sadness and Kensi could not help wondering what might have been.

"There's not much point in me saying anything, is there?" Macy said sadly. "But for what it's worth, Callen's body does it for me. Every single time."

Hetty clapped her hands together. "Enough of this petty bickering! You could both benefit from tautening up those abdominal muscles and gaining a little extra definition. So go for that run and then get straight into the sauna. And be assured that I will personally be supervising your diets for the next few days." It sounded more like a threat than a promise.

Satisfied she had put an end to the matter, she exited the gym with immense dignity, but with a smile on her face. A little friendly rivalry would go a long way to ensuring both men looked superb when stripped down and ready for action. Hetty was as keen a connoisseur of the male physique as the next red-blooded woman, after all and she would personally make sure they both looked magnificent, no matter how much they bickered and whinged. It would be worth it. After all, one had to suffer for one's art. And she wanted her agents to look as good as they possible could: it was a matter of personal pride.

"Can I put my top on, please?"

Deeks looked like a kid when he asked that question, Kensi noticed. An unhappy, mixed-up kid, who wanted to get away from all this arguing. Vaguely, she wondered if it reminded him of his childhood and the rows between his warring parents, and then dismissed that thought. Deeks didn't need her sympathy, because he had someone else to do that now: Louise could give him lots of tender loving care this evening. She could massage his body and his battered ego at the same time.

"Be my guest. And then be back here at 2pm on the dot. We're going to start some dance practice."

Neither of them even bothered to demur, but just slunk out of the gym, wearing matching mulish expressions.

"Not a yard less than four miles, remember? Hetty will be watching." Kensi knew that for certain, because nothing was more certain. Hetty was always watching and nothing escaped her.

They wouldn't expect anything else from Hetty – the all-powerful and all-seeing - so it was with silent but palpable bad grace that they hit the beach, pounding silently along, with only the sound of the surf and the cries of the gulls for company. Callen found himself lengthening his stride subtly, trying to keep up with Deeks' longer reach.

"This isn't a competition." Deeks didn't look at him, he just kept his eyes firmly fixed straight ahead.

"Isn't it? Mr 'I've got an aesthetically pleasing body'?" That really rankled with Callen: it was like the ultimate betrayal. What did that make him – chopped liver?

"Maybe I could beat you over a shorter distance…"

"Maybe you could. In your dreams."

Deeks continued as if he had not spoken. "But you'd easily have me in anything much more than six miles. I know my limits." The unspoken message behind his words lay between them – don't push me much further. Do not push me over my limit.

They continued to run in silence, matching one another stride for stride, each man poised to increase his speed should the other begin to accelerate. The pace remained constant, the gulls continued to mewl and wheel in the sky and the waves continued to break on the shore in a foam of white spume.

"I reckon if we go to the lifeguard station and turn back, that should just about do it." It wasn't even a tacit apology, but it was the best that Callen could manage, given the circumstances. His pride had been badly hurt and Deeks had been a handy target.

"That works for me." Did Callen think that he actually wanted to be on display? That it mattered who had the better body? Deeks risked a look at the senior agent, who nodded his head in brief acknowledgement and the tension began to dissipate.

They continued to avoid the subject afterwards, lying in the hot, dry heat of the sauna, Deeks sprawled out in a supine position on a bench, with only a towel wrapped around his middle and one hand flung across his eyes, while Callen sat nearby, occasionally ladling more water onto the coals.

"Do you reckon they were serious about the waxing?" Neither he or Deeks had hairy chests, but still… there were other parts of their anatomy that Hetty would doubtless proclaim required to be fuzz-free. Other rather more delicate and personal parts, parts that Callen would really rather not think about. The things he did for his country…

"Deadly. Nothing would give Kensi more pleasure than to see me suffer." Deeks sat up and watched as a bead of sweat rolled slowly down his chest and then headed south towards his stomach. He rubbed the fine line of hair that lead down from his navel in a speculative manner. No doubt Hetty would decree that this was surplus to requirements. "How much do you reckon it really hurts?" He tried pulling a couple of hairs out and then decided not to bother after all.

"Like ripping off a Band-Aid I should think, only multiplied by about a thousand." Callen fingered his calf, and tried to work out how long the hairs were. Did it hurt more if they were longer? "I reckon I might shave."

"I wouldn't." Deeks flopped back down, and Callen noticed how concave his belly was, the way you could see the shadow of his ribs and the how the ridge of his hipbone stuck out. He remembered when his own body had looked like that. You hit forty and everything started to change. Maybe Hetty did have a point after all? Not that he would ever admit it to her, of course. And Sam had put on an incredible spread of food yesterday.

"Why not?" Surely shaving had to be less painful? Plus (and this was a major selling point for Callen) it was something you could do yourself.

"One: how are you going to reach around to all those inaccessible places? Even if you were flexible, which we both know you're not. Face it – you'd have to be a contortionist. And two – you know how much a shaving nick on your face hurts? Yeah, well just think about that. And then think about how you'd be shaving your junk and then the razor slips and…."

"Stop right there. Okay, so waxing it is. Which do you reckon is worse – getting waxed by a woman or a man?"

"Both are equally bad," Deeks said firmly. "There's only one way to get through it – and that's alcohol. Lots of alcohol. Before, during and afterwards."

"Now you're talking." And that was definitely going down on his expenses, Callen thought, given that it would be for purely medicinal purposes. Of course, psychotropic drugs would be even better.

It could be worse. At least they were in this together. It would be a lot worse to have to do this solo. Of course, it would be better if they weren't doing this at all.

"Hetty's special diet – what do you reckon that's going to consist of?" Deeks asked, in a doom-laden voice.

"I hate to think." Callen knew that Hetty had travelled to some pretty exotic places in her time and no doubt had picked up some interesting dietary notions. "I've heard her talk about special teas that suppress the appetite and cleanse the blood."

"I could cope with that." Deeks thought that at a pinch, even if the tea was especially disgusting (which most teas were, in his experience) he could let it cool down and then down the cupful in a single, albeit unpleasant, gulp. "Lots of fruits and nuts, whole grains – that sort of thing?"

"Probably. She's got one of high-tech juicers." The dry heat was really starting to build up in the sauna now. "And pints of water. She probably won't let you drink coffee."

"She can try." Deeks might drink Hetty's foul tea if he was forced to, but there was no way he was giving up coffee. "Good thing she's not trying to make Kensi join us on our diet."

Callen burst out laughing at the mere idea, for Kensi's love of junk food was legendary, and in that instant, the last remaining vestiges of resentment between them vanished. "Speaking of women with sadist tendencies, are you ready for another session with Kensi?"

Deeks cocked an eyebrow at this. "That sounds so much better in theory, somehow. I mean, 'a session with Kensi' should be fun, don't you reckon?" There was definitely a salacious edge to his voice.

"I thought you were with Louise?" Callen was still determined to get to the bottom of this relationship.

"I thought we were talking about Kensi?" Deeks countered.

"So you're not going to talk about her?" This was definitely interesting.

"About who?" Deeks was playing the 'deliberately obtuse' card for all he was worth and he was damn good at it, Callen had to admit.

"About Louise. Who else?"

"You'll find out about Louise in good time. I promise."

That sounded serious then, Callen thought. And then he wondered if that was good or bad. "Sooner or later?"

"Why are you so interested?" Deeks asked curiously.

"I'm just being friendly. Come on, give me something here. Or I'll think you're still mad at me."

"Okay." Deeks considered this for a moment. "Louise is a lawyer. We met at law school. Is that good enough for you?" He knew that it would not be, but that was all Callen was going to get.

"It'll do - for starters. Nell said she was stunning."

"She is. Louise is great." What could only be described as a goofy grin spread across Deeks' face. "Really, really great," he added, just for emphasis.

"Great," Callen echoed insincerely. This relationship was different to Deeks' other girlfriends, he thought, and then wondered how Kensi was going to react. Well, that was pretty easy to work out, because he knew Kensi and he knew how she felt about Deeks – he'd seen it in her eyes a hundred times or more. Kensi would take it badly, and then she would take it out on them. Fantastic. Could this day get any worse?

* * *

><p><em>You just know Kensi is not going to be a happy bunny, don't you?<em>


	11. Chapter 11

The answer to that one was simple: the day could indeed get worse, and that was exactly what it proceeded to do. When they went back into the gym, it was to discover that a couple of podiums had been rolled into place. About six feet in diameter, they loomed over Kensi, who was eyeing them speculatively, while Macy sat on top of one, swinging her legs back and forwards and enjoying ogling bare-chested Callen in his gym shorts.

"I thought we should get use to the space restrictions."

"We?" Callen glared at her. "Last time I looked, you weren't the one who was going to be doing some major booty-shaking."

"Whatever happened to your team spirit? All for one and one for all?"

"How about you come and join me on that podium next week?" he invited.

Macy leapt to her feet "Come and join me: we could get real cosy up here."

"You heard Hetty. Why would I want to interfere with her plans?" Kensi fully intended to be at the club on New Year's Eve, but purely as an interested member of the audience.

While they bickered, Deeks took the opportunity to inspect the dancing platforms in more detail. A set of steps at the rear provided access and he bounded up them, as Macy nimbly jumped back down onto the gym floor, and then he stood in the centre of the dais, looking down. "This might not be as bad as we thought," he called down. It was actually kind of cool.

"Speak for yourself." Callen glared at Kensi. "You know he's probably going to fall off and break his leg, don't you? Or his neck. You know what Deeks is like."

Oh, but she did. She knew exactly what Deeks was like: over six foot of golden toffee-coloured manliness, with eyes that sparkled like the ocean in summer.

"Don't be so pessimistic, Mr Callen." Hetty smiled indulgently as she watched Deeks attempt a couple of gyrations. "You need to rotate your hips more smoothly, Mr Deeks. And don't forget the pelvic thrusts. You have to make the audience think you are sex personified. The essence of manliness distilled into one body."

It might not be working for Hetty, but it was doing the most peculiar things to Kensi, who found she was unable to say a word. She thought plenty, though. Mainly about how gorgeous he looked, how tight those shorts were and how much she wanted him.

That remark of Hetty's stopped Deeks cold in his tracks. "There's something very wrong about that," he mumbled and jumped back down. Surely that was getting dangerously close to sexual harassment? There were laws against that in the workplace. Did the gym count as his workplace? He'd have to ask Louise later on.

"I've been trying to decide on a colour scheme." Hetty produced a swathe of fabric samples and started holding them randomly against Deeks' abdomen. "Something dark and dramatic, I think."

"How about body glitter?" Kensi suggested.

Deeks flung her a cold look. "How about you just keep out of this?"

"Do you want to teach you how to dance or not?" She gyrated slowly, enjoying the way Deeks' eyes nearly popped out of head and he swallowed once or twice in a convulsive fashion.

"I don't know about Deeks, but I'm enjoying the show." Callen found his eyes were riveted to her navel, as he didn't think it was tactful to look anywhere else.

"Do you think you could do this?" Kensi started to move sinuously, rotating her hips in slow and delicious detail.

"I'm not entirely sure that I want to. In fact, I know I'd much rather watch you do that. But just to be sure, how about you come over here and show me again?" The twinkle was definitely back in Deeks' voice as he said that.

"I've arranged for a choreographer to join us tomorrow."

Deeks and Kensi turned round to look at Hetty in consternation.

"Really?"

He sounded disappointed, Kensi thought and then tried to work out if that was a good thing or not. "Don't you think I can do this?" she asked Hetty, suddenly aware of how much she was enjoying these sessions in the gym. The fact that Deeks was wearing nothing other than a pair of small and very well-washed of gym shorts that left almost nothing to the imagination had nothing to do with it.

"It's more like she thinks you're having too much fun and she worried you might compromise Deeks," Macy said. "And if there was any justice in this world, I'd be alive and Callen would be lying on the floor, begging for mercy."

"On the contrary, I have every faith in you, my dear. But you are going to be rather busy in the gallery, aren't you? I have also arranged for a briefing for you on some on the more technical aspects of this case. Shall we say four o'clock in my office?" Without waiting for an answer, Hetty left the gym.

Kensi glared at her departing back. "Okay, how about you guys do those stretching exercises again? And then we'll start doing some basic moves. You know – a bit of shimmy here, a bit of bump and grind there."

"That works for me." Macy positioned herself so that she was standing right in front of Callen.

"I'm not sure my Mom would approve. She warned me about girls like you."

"Oh yeah?" Kensi poked Deeks' bare chest. "And exactly what did your Mommy say about girls like me?"

"That you'd only want me for my body. And that you'd break my heart into tiny little pieces."

"Don't flatter yourself, Deeks. Your body isn't that great."

Kensi decided to ignore the comment about the broken heart, because that was Deeks spinning a line. Broken hearts? He didn't know the first thing about a broken heart. He had no idea what it was like to hear that the man you loved was dead and know that you would never be able to tell him what he meant. Deeks would never know what it was like to discover you were in love, only to find out that the other person had fallen in love with someone else, so that all your dreams cracked right across the middle and splintered into fragments that pierced your heart.

"Can I help it if you think so?" Deeks put his hands on her hips. "How about you show me how to do that thing with the hips again? But more slowly this time." His gaze was solemn and searching.

Kensi repeated the movement, looking directly in to his eyes, feeling the warm pressure of his hands, wishing things were different, that they were in a club, with the music playing and that things could take their natural course. She was incredibly conscious of how close their bodies were, with just a tiny space between them, and more than anything she wished she could bridge that gulf that seemed to have grown. Surely he had to be aware of the tension?

"Once again?" Deeks looked as if he was concentrating very hard.

"What are you – a slow learner?" Kensi challenged. His mouth was so close, she could see each tiny golden hair in his stubble, that soft stubble that had brushed across her face in a platonic kiss only yesterday morning. That mouth, that tantalisingly kissable mouth… she had dreamt about kissing that mouth last night.

"You might say that. I just like to make sure I've got things right. I'm a perfectionist. One more time – please?" Did Kensi have any idea what she did to a man when she looked at him like that, he wondered. And when she moved like that, so slowly and sensuously, so that he could feel the power and the promise in her body, Kensi did things to his mind and body that could not be repeated in polite company.

"Do you two want to get a room, or something?" Callen was feeling decidedly surplus to requirements and watched in satisfaction as they jumped apart with a guilty start.

"How about I put on some music?" Kensi darted over to the docking station, grabbed the remote and started flicking through her music. "Just to get you into the mood?" If she got any more into the mood then she would be grabbing Deeks, flinging him against a wall and kissing him like he'd never been kissed in this life – kissing him until they both forgot to breath. And so what if Callen was there? It would give him something to think about, and no mistake.

She went back over, just in time to hear Deeks ask "Breast or leg?" in a particularly penetrating voice and all her previous thoughts flew out of the window.

"You just can't help yourself, can you? For your information, this is my dance gear, so get over it. And get your mind out of the gutter while you're at it."

His blue eyes shone with aggrieved innocence "I wasn't talking about you, Kensi." The words were uttered with exaggerated courtesy. "Callen said that Sam served a huge turkey yesterday and I was just asking which type of meat he preferred."

"Well, you two turkeys had better be ready to show me what you are made of. We're going to start with something simple, okay? So just try to keep up." The familiar sounds of _Like A Virgin_ began to pound and for one second Kensi regretted her choice. "And no comments about the song or how there is no way I could possibly remember, right? Just keep your mouths shut and concentrate on dancing." She launched into a simple routine, one that even a chimpanzee with two left feet should have been able to follow.

The results were predictably disastrous. Callen danced as if he had constipation, while Deeks' arm movements looked uncannily as if he was punching someone. Given the black looks he kept shooting in her direction, it wasn't too difficult to work out who that someone might be.

"This is pathetic," Macy moaned. "No, it's worse than that – it's tragic. How can two really attractive men look quite so bad? Neither of them has an ounce of rhythm in their bodies. Which is funny, because Callen was completely different in bed."

It was time to change the subject, Kensi thought. She wanted to shut the bedroom door very firmly on the idea of Macy and Callen in bed.

"Is that the best you can do?" It was rather satisfying to see that both men were breathing rather harder than usual when the track ended, while she had not even begun to break into a sweat. "How about we try it once again? And this time, try to remember that dancing is supposed to be fun and it's all about sex." She fixed Deeks with a glare. "Anything you want to add to that?"

"What could I possibly have to say to you about sex, Kensi?" Apart from _'yes please'_, Deeks thought and pushed the idea as far back into his mind as it would possibly go, locked it into a cupboard and then threw away the key.

"I don't think I want to think about sex when I'm dancing with Deeks," Callen complained. "No insult meant."

"None taken," Deeks assured him. "I can assure you the feeling is entirely mutual."

"How about you two just leave all those macho hang-ups in the locker room next time? I know that you feel this assignment is compromising your masculinity, but just deal with it. So get up onto those podiums an let's do this one more time. And this time, try to look as if you're enjoying yourselves."

"As if." Callen gritted his teeth and tried to keep up with her. The way Kensi's breasts moved in that lycra top was particularly eye-catching, and Deeks' certainly wasn't able to look anywhere else. From his vantage point on the podium he got the most incredible view, directly down her cleavage and there were several times when he came dangerous near to tumbling over the edge. But by the time Kensi had finally finished putting them through their paces, the only thing either man was able to think about was the prospect of lying down in a darkened room and weeping gently.

"Hit the showers." Kensi strolled out of the gym casually, practically having to drag Macy out with her. After the ritual humiliation she had just put them through, they deserved a little space to lick their wounds in private, she thought.

"Did you know dancing was such hard work?" Kensi's inner thigh muscles must be something to behold, Deeks thought. She must have a grip like iron. And that image was one he shouldn't be thinking about, belonging as it did in the realm that had a barbed wire fence all around it, and ten foot gate with a padlock and sign saying 'Keep Out' in big, black letters, while man-eating tigers prowled around with hungry looks on their faces.

"Nope. And after this, I'm never dancing again." Callen limped off to the showers, without waiting for Deeks to tell him that he couldn't dance in the first place.

* * *

><p>In the women's locker room, Kensi stood underneath the shower for an age, letting the water thunder down all around her, in the vague hope that it might just help to wash her troubles away. It was no good. Every time she closed her eyes, she could see Deeks standing there in front of her, see the way his muscles rippled smoothly under his skin, see the look of intense concentration on his face as he tried to follow her instructions and invariably came up short each time. Maybe she'd been a bit too hard on him? But he could be half-way decent, if he put a bit of work in. He had a good body and – no, scrub that thought. Deeks had a great body – all lean and taut and fit and when she'd taken hold of his arm to demonstrate a move, Kensi had been so tempted to pull him towards her and wrap her own arms around him. She deserved a medal, that's what she deserved. And what did she get instead? Two team mates who detested her. They'd made that quite clear, every single time they looked at her in the gym. Was it her fault they had all the artistic ability of a pair of elephants? She reached for the shampoo with a sigh.<p>

"It's not going to work, you know."

Turning around, she saw that Macy was standing right beside her. Although a good portion of the shower spray was hitting her, Macy was still as dry as a bone. Clearly being dead invested you with Teflon qualities.

"What isn't?" She rubbed the shampoo up into a fine lather of bubbles.

"Washing that man right out of your hair." Macy trilled a few bars: Mary Martin she was not. "I should know – I tried enough times."

"I thought you loved Callen?"

"I did. I still do. But I kept thinking that we shouldn't be together, because it was so complicated – working together, me being his boss – all that sort of thing. And I worried about what other people would say."

"I know exactly what you mean." These very same thoughts had plagued Kensi too many times to count.

"And I could never quite bring myself to believe that he actually loved me." Macy's eyes were large and dark with grief. "I could never believe that any man would ever love me – not really. Not when he came to know me and knew who I really was, deep down inside."

"I know." The only man a girl could ever truly love and trust and who would never let her down was her father – and Kensi's dad had died a long time ago. She turned her face up towards the shower head and let the water run down her face, washing away the tears.

Afterwards, she towelled off roughly, dragged a comb through her hair and pulled it into a pony-tail. Some tinted moisturiser, a quick wave of the mascara wand and that was about as good as it was going to get. What was the point, after all? She was only going to check in with Hetty and then head home.

Hetty looked as neat and spruce as ever, but then she always did. Hetty always looked as if she had stepped out of a band-box – whatever a band-box was when it was at home. It was unlikely that Hetty owned a single pair of jeans, whereas Kensi's wardrobe was bursting at the seams with at least twenty different pairs. Hey – if you had it, then why not flaunt it?

"Sit down, my dear. You must be feeling rather tired after that session."

"Tell me about it." Kensi sank down gratefully into the armchair. "Hetty – this isn't going to work."

"I presume you are referring to the dancing?" Hetty raised her eyebrow quizzically.

"What else would I be talking about?" she countered wearily, hoping this was not going to be another verbal fencing match, because she really didn't feel that she had the energy right now.

"I was hoping you might tell me." Hetty's gaze was not unlike that of the Medusa. "Be that as it may, it was no reflection on your abilities when I decided to bring in a choreographer."

"I know. Lady Gaga - only the best is good enough."

"Not at all." Hetty leant forward. "They have to appeal to a very particular audience. And that audience has different tastes to your own. Therefore, it makes sense to bring in an expert, don't you agree?"

"Whatever." Kensi leant back and gazed briefly at the ceiling. "I'm okay, Hetty – really, I am."

"You don't look okay." Hetty sureyed her carefully. "You look… different."

Well, seeing how completely screwed the world might have been would do that to you every single time. Seeing how your whole team might have died – and how you might have died – was kind of a bummer. And finding out that you might never have known Deeks: that was the killer. That was as bad as it could get, because Deeks was so much part of Kensi's life, he was so deeply ingrained into her psyche, that a world without Deeks in it was quite simply untenable. Deeks in a relationship with someone else was immeasurably better than no Deeks at all, so she would simply have to come to terms with the situation.

"I'm fine. Really, I'm fine." Her mouth twisted in the approximation of a smile.

"If you say so."

"I say so." Kensi decided it was time to change the topic of conversation to something a little less personal. "How about you tell me some more about my assignment?"

"Ah yes. Fine art." Hetty's voice took on a far-away air. "Te European masters – their use of imagery, of light and space. The way they made the colours sing out to the soul. You really should go to Paris one day – to the Louvre, to the Musee d'Orsay."

"I'd love to," Kensi said sincerely. To visit Paris was a long-held dream, but on her salary it was one which would have to be deferred indefinitely.

"Of course, this particular assignment contains a number of complex points of law – not just our own laws, but cross-European laws."

Kensi could feel her heart begin to sink. She had a working knowledge of the relevant laws pertaining directly to the job, but other than that…

"Which is why I've arranged for an expert to brief you. There is, of course, a sizeable dossier, but I thought a verbal briefing would be the best starting point."

"That works for me." After all, she had no especial desire to pore over a stack of statute books, trying to make sense of the impenetrable legalese of at least half a dozen different countries.

"I'm glad you agree. And we've been very lucky in procuring the services of a very gifted litigator." Hetty's gaze shifted to somewhere just over Kensi's right shoulder. "I believe you two have already met?"

It was Louise. Of course it was Louise, because who else would it possibly have been in the chapter of accidents Kensi jokingly referred to as her life? Every time someone looked over her shoulder, it seemed that Louise was standing there.A lesser woman might have begun to get a complex about it, or to think that the whole world was against her. Why did the woman always have to look so utterly perfect? Especially when Kensi was only too aware that she looked as if she' been dragged through a hedge backwards?

"Hi Kensi. It's really nice to see you again." Louise held out her hand, and Kensi took it with as much grace as she could muster.

"You can do this," Macy hissed urgently. "Don't let her see you're riled. Never show fear."

"It's great to see you again too." Liar, liar, pants on fire.

Hetty shook her head at her own stupidity. "I'd forgotten you had already met. Louise Brandel has been temporarily assigned to us from Justice Division."

"Brandel?" Kensi's mouth was completely dry: there was more water in the Sahara.

Louise looked concerned. "Marty didn't tell you?" She shook her head in sorrow, even as her eyes sparkled with mischief. "I am going to kill him. I told him that he had to tell you. This is so awkward."

* * *

><p><em>You'll find out more about Louise and Deeks in the next chapter!<em>


	12. Chapter 12

"Awkward? Tell me about it." Macy's voice was dark and filled with loathing as she looped her arm around Kensi's waist for support. "She needn't strain herself, because I'm going to kill Deeks first. Very slowly indeed. How could he do this to you – and not say anything?"

Maybe for the same reasons that Kensi had deliberately taunted and teased him with her trip, she thought? One person would drop a tiny clue about their life outside work and then watch the ripples grow as the other person struggled desperately to find some sort of meaning, to make it relevant to all the unspoken words that hung heavily between them. That was the way it worked: that was the way it had always worked between them. Only it wasn't working for Kensi any more. She felt sick, and the walls of Hetty's clutter-filled office seemed to be pressing in upon her and sucking all the oxygen out of the air.

"Brandel?" she said slowly, trying to make sense out of this nonsense, trying desperately to stand tall and strong as the world turned upside down. "That was Deeks' surname."

"Which I changed." He materialised at Louise's side, hair still damp from his shower, face flushed with the exercise and perhaps something else. Love? Embarrassment? Regret?

"Brandel isn't such a bad name," Louise said. "I kind of like it."

"And you don't like Deeks?" he countered.

"It could be worse. I just prefer Brandel." Louise put her hand on Deeks' arm. "And you promised me, Marty. You promised me you would tell Kensi." She cast him a reproachful look and Deeks had the good grace to look abashed.

"We've been kind of busy today." Deeks had wanted to tell Kensi when they were alone, but there simply hadn't been the time or the opportunity. This wasn't the sort of thing he wanted to blurt out in front of Callen or Sam, after all. Okay, there might have been a couple of times when he could have pulled Kensi into a quiet corner, or suggested they should go out and grab a coffee, but basically, he'd avoided the whole issue. He was good at avoidance techniques by now because he'd had enough practice over the years. If you didn't think about it, then it didn't exist and it couldn't hurt you. Deeks had discovered that at the age of eleven, staring down the barrel of the gun his father was levelling at him. Changing his name had been one way of trying to wipe out that memory.

"I thought you knew." There was a world of sympathy in Hetty's eyes as she looked at Kensi, who was ashen-white and seemed to be frozen to the spot.

"I guess I do now." Taking a deep breath, Kensi forced a wholly unnatural smile onto her face. "Congratulations. I'm very happy for you both."

"What's going on? Has someone got married, or something?"

There was clearly something in the air that was drawing everyone towards Hetty's office like iron filings to a magnet, because now Callen appeared, limping only slightly, but perking up considerably when he saw Louise in all her lissom loveliness.

"They have." Kensi pointed to the happy couple, not quite able to bring herself to say either name. "Aren't you going to wish them well?" She'd nearly choked on her own greeting earlier, but it didn't look as if anyone had noticed. And why would Deeks notice something so inconsequential as her heart breaking when he was in love?

"Married? Deeks?" Incredulity was mixed in equal proportions with envy. Deeks really was a sly dog. A sly dog with great taste. It was not often that Callen was knocked for six, but this was definitely one of those occasions. However, he gathered his scattered wits together with a great deal of aplomb. Certain conventions were expected, after all. And it did mean he got to kiss the bride. The exceptionally gorgeous bride, all tousled blonde hair, amazing figure and incredible eyes.

"Congratulations. Even if you are mad." Callen kissed her on the cheek and then looked at her curiously. "Who are you, exactly?"

"I'm Louise. Louise Brandel. And you must be Callen."

"I'm Callen," he agreed. It was the strangest thing, because Callen felt as if he already knew her, even as he was drowning in her smile. He felt as if he had known her forever and had just been waiting for to appear in his life.

"Married? Who said we were married?" Deeks looked kind of pissed and Kensi realised she had said too much. This wasn't her news to break after all.

"She did." Callen pointed to Kensi. "Weren't you listening? Or is your head too busy spinning with love. So this is Louise? Deeks hasn't told me nearly enough about you. In fact, he's hardly told me anything about you at all. Apart from how great you are. And for once, he was right." Taking a step forward, Callen kissed her again and then enfolded her into a hug. If a thing was worth doing, it was worth doing well, after all. "Welcome to the family. He's not nearly good enough for you, you know."

"Thank you." Louise returned the kiss and then rubbed the lipstick mark she had left on Callen's cheek. "For the hug, I mean."

"What she's trying to say is that there's some mistake here. We're not married. I don't know why anyone would think we were married." Deeks frowned at Kensi. What the hell was she playing at?

"Her surname? Brandel? It's not exactly a common name, is it?" Placing both hands on her hips, Kensi faced him down. "And you do seem very fond of each other." Far too fond for comfort.

"Are you trying to ask me if I love Louise?" Deeks wasn't about to give an inch.

"Do you?"

"Of course I do."

And the world officially fell apart. So they weren't married, Louise had merely taken his original name. Stranger things happened, after all. Not as strange as having Deeks standing there, telling her he loved someone else, admittedly.

"Of course you do," Kensi echoed.

"But if I was married to Marty, I think I'd kill him in less than a week." Louise couldn't help noticing how attractive this newcomer was. So this was the mysterious Callen, she thought. Why had Marty never told her how sexy he was?

Deeks swatted her on the butt. "And I'd let you. Gladly. It would put me out of my misery."

"Besides which, there are several laws that expressly prohibit sibling marriage." Ever the lawyer, Louise felt compelled to point this out.

"Probably because they'd kill each other in less than a week," Deeks mused. He was still struggling to work out why on earth Kensi would ever think he'd got married.

"Siblings?" Kensi looked from one to the other and then back again and realisation began to dawn

"My baby brother never told you about me?" Louise shook her head in disbelief. "Marty – what is wrong with you?"

"Where shall I begin?" Callen leaned closer and whispered in her ear. "How about we go out for coffee and I can start to tell you? Of course, I've got a lot to say, so we'd probably better go on for dinner afterwards and then maybe a club. And then I think we should go down to the beach, and watch the sun rise."

"You have that much to tell me?" Louise could feel the hairs standing up on the back of her neck.

"I do."

"About Marty?"

"Deeks? God, no. No, that shouldn't take more than about five minutes. He's not that interesting, after all. He's not interesting all at. But I am."

"She's your sister?" Kensi wondered if she'd slipped into another parallel universe.

"She's my sister," Deeks confirmed, with strangely tight lips. It looked as if he was having trouble composing the expression on his face.

"You never said you had a sister. All the stories you told me about growing up, and you never once mentioned the fact you had a sister." Kensi had always known that Deeks left out more than he revealed, but how could he conveniently forget to mention the fact that he had a sister?

"She wasn't there when I was growing up. Louise is my half-sister. Same father, different mothers. He walked out on her family too, before he met my Mom. I didn't know Louise even existed until I went to law school and we met."

"Louise really is your sister?" Kensi needed to get this straight, because her world was slipping back on its axis and everything else was slotting back into its appointed place and she needed to be certain that she had all the facts straight. Right now, she wasn't quite sure of how she felt about anything, so she needed to be sure before she dared to let her heart out of hiding once again. It was already battered and bruised enough.

"I just said she was. My big sister." Deeks looked absurdly proud of this fact.

"She seems great." In fact, Louise seemed one of the nicest women Kensi had ever met. And Louise looked so much like her brother that Kensi couldn't believe she hadn't worked this out before. Clearly she was slipping, because normally she would have spotted the family resemblance instantly – the same vivid blue eyes, slightly shaggy hair, and insouciant smiles. How could she possibly have been so blind?

"Love will do that, Kensi." Macy's arm tightened for a brief instance. "It'll do that every single time. So, are you happy now?"

Of course she was. Kensi felt like she was bouncing up and down on a huge pile of cotton candy.

Deeks took a proud look at Louise and then did a double take. "She seems awfully fond of Callen," he said dryly.

"Much too fond," Macy agreed. They were not exactly flirting – not quite - but it was the next best thing. "I told you I was going to kill her, didn't I?" She might not have got over Callen, but it seemed that Callen had finally got over her.

"I think your sister knows what she's doing." For some reason, Kensi tucked her arm through Deeks'.

"I think she knows exactly what she's doing." He just wished he was as brave and confident as Louise. But standing here like this and being so close to Kensi that their hips were touching, felt like the most natural thing in the world and it gave him fresh hope. "I wish you were still going to be teaching me how to dance."

"Me too." That moment earlier on, when Deeks had put his hands on her hips and their eyes had met… A shiver ran the length of Kensi's spine at the memory and at the nearness of him.

"Maybe we could… No, forget I said anything."

"You didn't actually say anything," Kensi pointed out.

"That's because it wouldn't work. Would it?"

"It might. You'll never know if you don't tell ask me." Was he going to say what she thought he was going to say? Or was that just wishful thinking? Say it, Kensi prayed silently.

"Well, I was just thinking… Maybe you could keep giving me dancing lessons? But not here." There were too many people in the Mission, too many pairs of eyes and definitely too many tongues that waggled incessantly.

"Maybe I could?" Kensi pretended to think. "I guess it could be arranged. But you're right – definitely not here. I suppose we could go out somewhere – like a club?"

"You're thinking about that alternate reality, aren't you?" Macy's eyes grew wide as she remembered what she had told Kensi. "The one where you met Deeks just one time – in a club. And then you had sex with him. Great sex. And now you're wondering if you can make that part of the timeline exist in this reality, aren't you?"

Of course she was. Kensi had thought about that seemingly throw-away comment of Macy's on and off since she had first heard it.

"Well – why not? The future hasn't been written yet, Kensi. It can be anything you want it to be. So you go for it, girl." Just because Macy's own dreams had died along with her body didn't mean that other people couldn't be happy. She just didn't expect it to hurt quite so much when Callen looked at Louise like that – like he used to look at her.

"A club?" It was Deeks' turn to pretend to think this over – for all of two seconds. "That might work." He didn't sound too eager, did he?

"It wouldn't be a date though, would it?" Was she reading too much into this? Did she sound desperate – like she was begging? Did she actually care? Probably not, Kensi decided.

"It would be whatever we wanted it to be." It could be everything – or then again it might turn out to be nothing. That was the thing about Kensi – she always kept him guessing. That was just one of the things Deeks loved about her. The others were too numerous to mention.

"How about tomorrow night?" Kensi forced herself to sound casual and unconcerned, even as her mind was racing. There were so many things she wanted to do – like get a new outfit, have her hair and nails done… because she wanted to look perfect. She wanted to look hotter than she had ever looked before. New lingerie was a definite. Something subtle and yet sensuous. Innocent and yet inviting. And new perfume, of course. So that she would linger in his mind long after she was gone, so that Deeks would catch a faint ghost of her scent and he would remember.

"That would work for me." With any luck, he could persuade Louise to stay over with a friend. Kensi had made it very clear on a number of occasions that gentlemen callers did not stay over at her apartment. Tomorrow night was going to be the best night of his life. Deeks had been waiting for this for a very long time and he was determined not to blow it. "I'll pick you up about nine?"

"That's a date. Or not. Whatever."

"That's right," Macy said approvingly. "You don't want to sound too eager. Keep him wondering – keep him on his toes."

"Yeah – whatever." So it was probably nothing, Deeks thought. It was just two colleagues going out together, that was all it was. But there was just the vaguest chance that it might actually be something. And he was going to seize that chance with both hands and do his best to make sure it became something.

Hetty watched with a mixture of satisfaction and bemusement as the two couples conversed on opposite sides of her office. There seemed to be rather a lot of sparks flying around, not unlike the fireflies she remembered from the summers of her girlhood. If only one could find some way of capturing all the sexual tension her team managed to generate and channelling it directly into the power supply, then she could save the government a small fortune in electricity bills. They did all appear to be very highly-sexed, especially today, but then perhaps all that dancing had acted as an aphrodisiac? Then again, it was just as likely that they were all just highly-sexed.

* * *

><p>"Well?" Deeks sat on the edge of the sofa, his right knee jerking up and down in a nervous fashion.<p>

"Well what?" Louise looked across at him.

"What did you think?"

"What did I think? Let me see… I wondered why you hadn't told me more."

"I didn't want you to have any preconceptions. I wanted to know what you thought."

"It matters that much to you?"

Her brother looked offended, and his right foot practically jumped off the floor as his agitation increased. "Of course it does."

"That's so sweet." She got up and dropped a kiss on top of his head. "Wanting your big sister to approve." Louise's hand clamped down on his knee and squeezed hard. "Sit still, will you? Enough with the Tigger impersonations. It's like being trapped with a one-legged tap-dancer."

With an effort, Deeks managed to bring his leg to a standstill. "So what did you think?"

"I thought he was gorgeous." Louise sat down next to him and lay back with a sigh to stare up at the ceiling. "Absolutely gorgeous. Sex on a stick."

"I wasn't talking about Callen."

"I was." She poked him with her toe. "So who were you talking about, Marty?"

"Kensi. Who else?"

"Kensi. Of course."

There was something in her tone that made Deeks turn around. "What do you mean 'of course'? You just finished saying I'd hardly said anything about her."

"You didn't have to. It was what you didn't say. You've got it bad, haven't you?"

"Uh huh. Really bad." It was safe to tell Louise. Deeks know he could tell his sister things he hardly dared to admit even to himself.

"I think I've got it bad too. With Callen though – not Kensi."

"I didn't think she was your type." Deeks thought for a second. "But you've only just met him."

"And?" Blue eyes met blue eyes and their gazes locked. "Don't bother trying to tell me you didn't fancy Kensi about ten seconds after you first met her."

"I won't bother."

"And about five minutes after that, you were thinking about how you wanted to sleep with her, weren't you?"

"Are you psychic, or something?"

"No, I'm a Brandel, just like you are. That's how I know – because I feel exactly the same way. Only about Callen, of course."

"I can keep up, sis. You don't need to keep on giving me quick recaps."

"Sorry. It's a bad habit of mine. All those sidebars, you know?"

"I remember – just. I'm trying to forget, but some things are burned into my memory. Anyway, it's different for you."

"Why – because I'm female?" Louise poked him again, but this time a lot harder and she managed to find an especially tender spot, just underneath his ribs. "Don't be a sexist pig."

"I'm not. I was referring to the fact that you don't have to work with Callen, plus you don't have this whole 'thing' going on with him."

"What 'thing' would this be?" Louise pulled herself up into a seated position.

"I wish I knew," Deeks said miserably. "Sometimes I think we're getting on brilliantly, and then it all just falls apart. Basically I say 'left' and Kensi says 'right'. I say 'yes?' and she says 'no way'."

"That's because she likes you but she doesn't want you to know it."

"You think?"

"I think. I definitely think. Marty – why wouldn't she like you?"

"Because I'm a screw-up? I gave up law pretty much instantly, half of LAPD hated my guts and these guys in NCIS – you should see what they can do."

"And?" Louise shook his shoulder. "And you are part of their team. What does that tell you? Would they have you around if they didn't trust you? If they didn't think you could do the job?"

"Probably not. You've got a point."

"Of course I have. I'm your big sister and I'm always right. Want me to go over and set Kensi straight?"

"God no." Deeks' eyes were round with terror. "Please don't say anything to her. We've kind of got this date tomorrow night – only it's not really a date."

"So make it one. And I'll make myself scarce, just in case. I wouldn't want to cramp your style."

"Don't tell me you've got a date with Callen?" God, she was a fast mover. Deeks wasn't quite sure if he was envious or if he should be worried.

"Okay, I won't – if that'll make you happy."

"I'm ecstatic."

"For what it's worth – she likes you."

"You're just saying that because you feel sorry for me."

"No, but if you keep on with that attitude, then I'll give you something to feel sorry about. And don't bother turning those wounded-puppy eyes on me, Marty. I'm immune."

"God, you are one hard cookie."

"Just because your charm doesn't work on me. You must have seen how Kensi was – all defensive? She had more metaphorical spikes coming out of her than a porcupine."

"That's pretty much how she is most of the time when I'm around. I seem to rub her up the wrong way."

Louise swatted him lightly on the back of the head. "Idiot. You've got it all wrong. She was just about crawling up the wall with jealousy. You remember that tomorrow night. And remember this too – you can trust me."

She was the one person in the world he could trust, completely and utterly. Except for Kensi, of course. But at least with Louise, Deeks knew exactly where he stood – their relationship was easy and accepting. His relationship with Kensi was like steering a ship through uncharted waters, knowing that the sea seethed with hungry alligators. And God, that made it so damned exciting.

* * *

><p><em>See? I told you Louise was lovely! You really should trust me... well, except when I maim Deeks, obviously. But in my defence, I've only killed him once. Well, once properly (in <strong>Mon Legionnaire<strong>) - and he was sort of dead earlier on in this story. But that was in a different reality, so it doesn't really count, does it?_

_Anyway, now we've got that rather Shakespearean comedy of errors sorted out, the way is clear for Kensi and Deeks to get together, at which point the waves will build up to a crescendo and then come crashing down on the shores of Santa Monica (obscure reference to films of an earlier, much gentler era) and everyone will live happily ever after. And if you think that's going to happen any time soon, then clearly you are reading the wrong story. This is me, MAxie Kay, and life is never simple in my stories. Actually, life is never simple, full stop. besides which, the plot bunnies and I have some real treats in store for you. It's my special Christmas present to them, you see. You shuld just see their little furry faces, beaming up at me. Well, except for evil plot bunny, obviously. His eyes have this rather menacing red glare to them. That's never a good sign..._


	13. Chapter 13

If Callen and Deeks had thought that Kensi was a hard task-mistress, they learned to think all over again when Fraser arrived to put them through their paces. Fraser only had one name, it appeared – and in that sense, he had gone one better than Callen, who at least had an initial, which gave him some semblance of normality. Fraser was just Fraser: and he could have given any Marine drill sergeant a run for his money and given him a hundred yard start into the bargain. The fact that he was slim, pale-skinned and with a shock of ginger hair and stood no more than five foot six in his stocking soles had nothing at all to do with the big impact he made, just by the force of his presence. They had no idea where Hetty had found him, and it seemed wisest not to ask.

"Gentlemen." Oh, that deceptively soft voice, with the soft Scottish accent. It was like high explosive wrapped in a warm fuzzy blanket of tartan. "Let's start again, shall we? From the top. Again."

And again, and again and again. After a while, time ceased to have any meaning – it just was. It was just something to be endured. The world shrunk down to the four walls of the gym and Callen thought that if he heard one more Lady Gaga song he would start to scream.

"Can't we have a change of music?"

"You want a change of music?" Fraser smiled. At one point in his life, someone might have told him he had a charming smile, but they were probably lying. Fraser's smile had all the genuine warmth and humanity of a barracuda. "We can do that. How about we slow it right down?"

"That works for me." Deeks knew that his entire body was bathed in a fine sheen of sweat. This had to be the most intense workout he'd ever endured, and there was no sign of it ending anytime soon. He just hoped that he'd have enough energy for tonight. He better have. Otherwise Fraser was a dead man. Tonight was most definitely going to be the night.

"Listen up now boys, because this here is a classic. This is what it is all about. You can dance to this and you can dance to anything." The man almost seemed human, Callen thought. "Now, this comes from way back in the nineteen seventies – which was the decade that taste forgot, as far as clothes went – I mean, loon pants? Or those cheesecloth shirts with collars that flapped in your face?"

Deeks had absolutely no idea what the man was talking about, but he decided it was probably best to keep his mouth firmly shut

"Don't get me started on the hair. Feathered hair cuts were not a good idea. But there was one thing about the seventies - they had great music." Fraser looked at Callen. "You'll probably remember this one. Your friend though, he was probably still in nappies – sorry diapers. I keep forgetting." That was probably because nobody in their right mind would let Fraser anywhere near a baby.

The unmistakable sounds of a woman in the throes of ecstasy filled the cavernous space. Clearly there were no such things as 'Parental Advisory' stickers back in the nineteen seventies. As he listened to a vocal orgasm that was reaching a powerful crescendo, Fraser smiled again, but this time he actually looked happy.

"Remember – the nineteen seventies was really shite in a lot of ways, but it was the decade that gave us disco. And right here we have the Queen – none other thanMiss Donna Summer and _'I Feel Love'_. Can you feel the love, gentlemen?" Fraser looked at them and shook his head sadly "No? Then we're going to have to try a little harder, aren't we?"

If only the man wasn't so damn polite all the time, it would be easier. If only he wasn't making them dance as if they were attracted to each other it would be easier still. Innocence and experience be damned. Fraser thought that was a great idea for them? Callen had never heard anything so dumb in his whole life. Still, maybe if they made a good show of this, maybe Fraser would let them do something less demanding; something simple like a triathlon followed by chess against a Grand Master. Gritting his teeth, he launched into a series of moves that were on the verge of becoming second nature, because he'd done them so many times already today.

"Much better!" Fraser almost managed to sound pleased. They weren't moving like tigers on Vaseline, but they were getting there. At least they no longer resembled car mechanics on slipping around on a greasy floor.

Back in the bullpen, Sam tried very hard to concentrate on the information onscreen. Tracking bank accounts through a myriad of proxy servers, offshore accounts and bogus accounts and holding companies was complex at the best of times, but when you had a woman throwing multiple orgasms in your ear it was downright impossible.

"Hetty – can't you do something?"

"Anything. Do anything. Just make it stop." Louise's briefing had been great, but the dossier she'd provided made for very heavy reading, even if it was carefully annotated with colour-coded tabs. Kensi found she'd just read the same paragraph for the third time in a row and it still didn't make any sense. If anything, it was actually making less sense with each attempt she made to try to understand it.

"It is a trifle loud," Hetty admitted. "Perhaps this might be a good opportunity for me to check up on proceedings." She departed with considerable alacrity and shortly thereafter, the music stopped altogether. Luckily, nobody saw the way she did a neat set of Hustle hand movements on the way to the gym.

"Thank God." It was no good though – her concentration was completely shot and the legal language was as impenetrable as ever. Kensi took a surreptitious look at her watch and wondered just how soon she could sneak off home.

The respite was only temporary though, as the familiar, cheerful strains of _'It's Raining Men'_ began. At least this song didn't attempt to stimulate sex, which was one thing to be grateful for.

"I don't even want to think about what they are doing in there," Sam informed her.

A mental picture of Deeks in just a pair of wellington boots and a sou'wester sprang into Kensi's mind and was impossible to dismiss. "Do you reckon Callen has an umbrella?" she managed to say, before dissolving into hysterics.

Sam just glared at her. "Thank you so much for that image. I won't be able to sleep tonight." The sooner this operation was over and done with and things returned to normal, the better, as far as he was concerned.

"It's not use." Kensi closed the manilla folder. "I can't concentrate. I'm going to have to call Louise. Maybe she can talk me through this once again."

"I still can't get over the fact that Deeks has a sister. It doesn't seem right that there's two of them walking around. Tell me, is the female version as annoying as the male one?"

"She's like Deeks – and she isn't," Kensi said vaguely, not wanting to say too much, for fear that she might give herself away. If Louise could just run through the minutiae of the Hague Convention for the Protection of Cultural Property in the Event of Armed Conflict one more time, she should be able to master the rest. "I mean, she kind of looks like Deeks."

"You mean that she's scruffy too?"

"No, actually she's not. Quite the reverse."

"Louise not only owns a hairbrush but actually uses it?"

Kensi ignored this witticism. "It's more that there's something about the way she looks that reminds me of Deeks. They've got the same sort of faces."

"I hope she's not got huge nostrils." And Sam also hoped that Louise didn't have a super abundance of facial hair, because that would be kind of a bummer for a girl. Deeks had warned him a long time ago that Kensi was rather touchy about the whole subject of facial hair, so he thought it best to steer clear of the issue.

"And she's definitely super intelligent."

"How does that make her like Deeks?" Sam objected.

"Plus, they seem to have the same sort of humour."

"And exactly how is that a good thing?"

Kensi stared at him. "Anybody listening to you would have a hard time working out that you really like Deeks."

"Did I say that I liked him?"

"You didn't have to. I know you, Sam." Kensi would never forget Macy telling her how protective Sam felt towards his team and that had made her see the man in a new light. Sam made these jokes as a way of deflecting his feelings but the instant a member of the team was hurt, or even just threatened, then all his protective instincts went into overdrive.

"Likewise." It was interesting how defensive Kensi was getting. Very interesting indeed. Maybe Callen was right after all and she did have a thing for Deeks?

"What does that mean?"

"I've seen how you look at Deeks."

"He's my partner. Sometimes he drives me mad, but he's a good guy." And she'd had a brief glimpse of what life might be like without Deeks – empty, dark and fruitless. Kensi didn't want to live that life, not when there was an alternative. Life was living, after all. And if you culd fun at the same time, then that was even better.

"Sure he is." Another deathless hit from over thirty years ago started to play and Sam was distracted. "Gloria Gaynor? _'I Will Survive'_? What is this – _Bridget Jones' Diary_ or something? Doesn't this guy have any music from this millennium?"

"Maybe Fraser is trying to make the guys get in touch with their feminine sides?" Kensi suggested and watched as Sam shuddered. "Listen, it's no good – I can't work here. I'm going to try to meet up with Louise and then I'll work at home for the rest of the day." That way she could indulge in a face-pack and deep-condition her hair at the same time. Guys never realised just how easy they had it – a quick shower and a shave and they were good to go. And if you were Deeks, you didn't even have to bother shaving. In her next life, Kensi was definitely coming back as a man – they didn't know they were living.

"Okay." Sam gave her a dismissive wave. "Have fun tonight. And don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Who said anything about tonight?"

He smiled, with an impish glee. "You didn't – not out loud, anyway. But your body language is easy to read. Once, I had this whole cover story as an alternative therapist and…"

"And you can tell me about it another time." Kensi decided to leave while the going was still good. "You and your cover stories. Is there any job you haven't done?"

"I've not been an OB/Gyn - yet. But give me time."

"That is downright creepy. Not to mention sickmaking.I think I just threw up in my mouth." Kensi flashed him a grin, just to show there were no hard feelings. "By the way, of you're very good, tomorrow I might even tell you about Callen and Louise."

"Callen? And Louise? Don't tell me?"

"Okay, I won't."

"You have to be kidding. Callen? And Deeks' sister? No way."

"Way. All the way, if Callen has his way." Kensi ran for the door, while she still could.

"That is so wrong, on so many levels." Sam sat back down and looked at the laptop screen with a good deal of hate. "And kind of creepy, in an incestuous sort of way." He began to wonder, if Callen and Louise had a baby, and Kensi and Deeks had one, and their babies married and had a baby, would that make it some sort of super NCIS agent? Or would it just be annoying, bossy and nosey to the Nth degree?

* * *

><p>"You shaved." It was nine pm precisely, and Deeks was standing on her doorstep, clean-shaven and looking more nervous than Kensi could ever remember seeing him before.<p>

"And you put on a dress." Suddenly his jeans and black t-shirt seemed hopelessly wrong. Seeing Kensi in a dress was actually nothing new, because she wore them all the time on operations – but they were usually short, tight and black, showing as much leg and cleavage as possible. This dress was a deep green and it was made of some sort of jersey material that floated over her body, delicately suggesting what lay beneath – a medley of subtle hints that draped around her and seemed to beg him to unwrap the silky layers. "You look great. And I could go change?"

"No need. You look great too."

It was amazing what a couple of days of intense dance workout could do to hone a body that was already buff but the results were there right before her eyes – the routines had lengthened his muscles, heightening what was already there, making him look like one tall, lean piece of man-candy. Those jeans and the way they clung to Deeks' insanely long legs were working their magic on Kensi. She'd put on a pair of shoes with high, slender heels, knowing they set her own legs off to maximum advantage and was glad she didn't have to worry about being taller than him. In fact, by happy co-incidence, Kensi couldn't help noticing that Deeks would only have to incline his head slightly and then his lips would be in just the right position…

Wait a minute. She had to stop thinking like this, because she was getting ahead of herself. Way ahead. This wasn't a given, after all, they were just two friends who were going out to a club together. It wasn't like it was a date, or anything like that. She was only going out dancing with Deeks to help him prepare for a mission. That was all this was – at the moment. But who could tell what might happen?

"You're ready to go then?"

"I'm ready." In truth, Kensi had been ready for the last hour and a half, having buffed and moisturised every inch of her body, painted her nails and blow-dried her hair into artful waves that tumbled down the length of her back and applied her makeup so that her eyes were dark and bewitching. And then she had sat staring at the clock and getting more nervous every time a car drove past.

"You've done something with your hair, haven't you?" Deeks pursed his lips as he studied her carefully. "You've got bangs! Wow, they really suit you."

God bless the man. He'd finally noticed – and only a week after the event. He was definitely improving. "Thank you," she said demurely.

"Not that your hair doesn't always look nice, of course."

"Your sister told you to say that, didn't she?"

"Louise might have given me a kick in the right direction," he admitted. What she'd actually said was _'Marty, you are completely hopeless. A lost cause.'_ But Louise had said it with a smile and she'd kissed him when he left the apartment and wished him luck. Deeks had forgotten how much he missed having his sister around – she kept him grounded, but she also made him feel loved and looked after. Things could have been so different, if only they'd known each other when they were kids.

"I really like Louise." Once again, Kensi tucked her arm underneath her partner's. This was getting to be a habit. And some habits were good. "Now, let's go dancing." She'd even let him drive, although that definitely was not going to be a habit. Some things you could compromise on, but others were not up for negotiation.

This was going to be a night to remember. The club was packed full of people, enjoying the festive season and the beat of the music reverberated throughout the building, pounding though the floor and inhabiting their bodies before they even set foot on the dance floor. The heat was already starting to build up and the atmosphere was so charged that you could practically smell the pheromones in the air.

"Want to dance?" Deeks had to raise his voice to make sure he was heard.

"That's what we're here for – isn't it?" Kensi raised huge smokey eyes up at him, and Deeks felt his stomach double over on itself, hang there for a second and then fall back into place. It was the strangest thing, but just looking at Kensi made him feel as if he was on the tallest, scariest rollercoaster at Magic Mountain.

"Come on then. Let's dance." Deeks held out his hand and Kensi let her fingertips touch his and then slid the rest of her hand forward, feeling the familiar sensation of skin gliding across skin and could not help wondering what it would be like to feel the skin of her belly skim across Deeks' bare flesh, how it would be to lie next to him, their breathing perfectly synchronised and then to let her eyelashes flutter gently across his chest.

Rihanna was singing about how _We Found Love_ as Kensi started to dance, letting the music flow through her body. For a long moment, Deeks stood as if his feet had been nailed to the ground, watching as his partner moved sinuously and tried very hard not to mentally undress her so that it was the fresh, crisp sheets on his newly-changed bed that Kensi was sensuously moving on. And then he let the beat take hold and started to move in time with her, letting his body weave in and out of the pattern she was creating, never quite touching.

"Not bad!" Her mouth was so close to his ear as she spoke that Deeks could hear the breathy whisper as she inhaled. All Kensi could think was that she was close enough so it would be so easy to dart her tongue out and flick it against the rim of his ear and then let it slide down towards the lobe. "You've really improved."

"Thanks." Dancing here, in a club with the darkness punctuated by bright multi-coloured lights, dancing here with Kensi – it was completely different to being in the gym and dancing with Callen. Now Deeks could relate dancing to sex – or at least to foreplay.

The beat changed and Kensi instantly adjusted her style as _Sexy And I Know It_ filled the club. "This should be right up your street."

"You think so?" Well, why not, thought Deeks, moving only to every second beat. _Sometimes you have to keep them waiting_, Fraser's voice whispered softly. He waited until the chorus came on and then rippled into a series of moves Fraser had drilled into him so that they were part of his being – automatic and smooth, executed with an ease born of long practice: clasping his hands behind his head and pumping his groin forward, doing a half-turn, clenching his butt tight and raising first one cheek and then the other before completing the turn, lowering his hands onto his hips, pulling his shoulders down and back while at the same time as flexing his pecs.

There was a slightly stunned expression on Kensi's face and she had almost stopped dancing, she was just standing there, looking at Deeks and the unreadable expression on his face, one which was totally new to her – distant and yet almost tauntingly tempting at the same time.

"Well?" Hands still on his hips, Deeks raised both shoulders in an exaggerated move and Kensi saw the muscles in his arms and chest expand and contract and watched as his shirt rose up again to reveal the ridged abdominal muscles.

"Yes. Definitely." Kensi couldn't believe the difference, not only in how Deeks danced, but in the way in which he danced – confident, that was the word for it. Confident and cocky and so smoking hot he positively sizzled. And from the way half the woman in the club were looking at him, she wasn't alone in thinking so.

"Definitely as in good?"

"Definitely as in amazing." It was nearly time for the chorus again, Kensi realised. "So do it again."

That arrogant, self-assured look slipped back onto his face again, just as Fraser had coached and Deeks could hear him saying '_You have to have a look, son. A look that says you know you are as hot as hell and you just don't care. You keep that look on your face and you dance like that and I guarantee that every woman will want you and every man will want to be you. Or vice versa. Whatever works for you.'_ Judging from the look on Kensi's face, Fraser was right. God, the man was a genius.

"Whatever turns you on." Deeks had always known that dancing was an aphrodisiac – but one he had thought worked only on the audience. He'd never realised that dancing could be such a turn on for the performer too. So he did it again – but this time he did with feeling and he did it for Kensi. He'd never felt so powerful - or so horny – in his whole life. It was almost a pity when the song ended.

"We should do this more often." Kensi was snuggled up against Deeks' chest, feeling the steady pounding of his heart.

"Yeah – just you, me, the deejay, the bar staff and a couple of hundred other people." He was acutely aware of the fact that her breasts were pressed closely against him. Never had previously forbidden fruit been proffered quite so generously.

It was a slow dance, and they were taking full advantage of that fact as Adele told everyone how her heart had been broken by _Someone Like You. _They were barely moving, their arms were wrapped around each other and they both knew that the moment had finally arrived, that things could not be denied any longer.

"Or we could take it somewhere more private?" She didn't dare raise her head as she said this, but the way Deeks' arms tightened around her told Kensi everything she needed to know.

"How about we do just that?" One hand caressed Kensi's hair, and the other eased slowly down to rest on her fabulous butt. When she turned her face up towards his, it was the easiest thing in the world for Deeks to close the small distance between them and to finally kiss her.

* * *

><p><em>At last! I hear you cry. And do we sense randy plot bunny might just be waiting to pounce? After all, they're getting it on, Deeks has got rid of Louise for the night - what could possibly go wrong...<em>


	14. Chapter 14

It was the kiss that did it, that quite simply blew all the pretence into the air and then dispersed it, like smoke in the wind. Two years of mistiming and missteps were swept away with one simple act and they were finally dancing in unison, swaying gently in time to the music. It started gently, softly even. The merest brush of lips across lips, sweet and soft, and yet holding the tantalising temptation of so much more. And then Deeks' hand was moving along the line of Kensi's jaw, moving backwards so that his fingers tangled in her hair and the kiss deepened, just a little. She moaned when his tongue eased into her mouth and deepened the pressure still further, meeting him with a upsurge of emotion, as her hands tightened around him. After a long while, they finally parted.

"Oh yes." Deeks held her face between his hands and rested his forehead against hers. "Oh yes." It was like coming home to haven. It was just a kiss, but what a kiss. He felt as if he waited all his life for that kiss and that monochrome had finally blossomed into full colour as a result. Every particle of Deeks' body seemed alive with a new energy and a new urgency.

"Yes indeed." Kensi kissed him again, just to be sure that this was real and true, and not just some random dream. It was just as good the second time. No, it was better. It was just that she couldn't quite think properly, because kissing Deeks was like having fireworks explode in her brain. "Macy was right when she said we met in a club." And judging by the way she felt after just a kiss, Kensi just knew that things were just going to get better and better from hereon in.

"Macy?" Deeks was looking at her as if he couldn't quite believe this was happening, and Kensi knew exactly how he felt, because she felt the same way.

"Macy's a friend of mine. A very old, very dear friend." Who just happened to be dead. Kensi realised that this evening Macy had been conspicuous by her absence, and she wondered if the other woman was actually employing a certain amount of tact. Well, there had to be a first time for everything. And without Macy breathing over her shoulder, she felt free to take things to the next level.

"You know how you said your Mommy warned you about girls like me? Well, now you're about to find out exactly how right she was." Those kisses had been almost too good to be true. Kensi decided that she'd have to make sure this was real and that she wasn't dreaming, so she kissed him again, and felt the resultant jolt of energy not only shoot through her own body, but through his as well.

"I think I already know." Deeks wondered how it was possible that he had known exactly how she would taste, even before he'd kissed her. How could he just know that Kensi would taste like wild cherries? It didn't make sense. And then to find out that he was right, so right that he could almost smell the sunshine that had ripened them and hear the soft summer breeze that had rippled through the leave of the tree that gave them life – there was no logic in that, none whatsoever. Not that it mattered, because Kensi had tasted delicious.

Deeks put his arm around her waist, Kensi leant her head on his shoulder and they started to thread their way through the revellers thronging the dance floor.

"My place or yours?" Deeks was almost sure that he knew the answer, but it only seemed polite to ask.

"How about we go to yours?" Kensi couldn't quite believe this was happening – happening at last. It seemed almost like a dream. No, on second thought, this was it more like being a little kid and waking up on Christmas morning and seeing all the presents underneath the tree and knowing that you were going to have so much fun pulling all the wrapping paper off – and even more fun playing with what was revealed underneath. But some presents were even better when you were a big girl and knew the pleasures of a slow reveal. This had been such a long time coming, that she wanted to savour every second of it, to get to know every single inch of Deeks' body and to feel his lips on every part of her own.

"Whatever you want." It was a good thing he'd changed the bed, cleaned the bathroom and run around with the vacuum cleaner like some sort of maniac then, Deeks thought. Because this was it. This was really it. Finally. The wait had nearly killed him, but at last he was going to hold Kensi properly and love her like she deserved to be loved.

"Hold it right there."

The words were not addressed to either of them, but the tone was unmistakeable in the threat that it held. Instantly Kensi and Deeks pulled apart and started to scan the crowd. It could be something – or then again, it could be nothing, but their instincts were on high alert, both of them as tense as if it were a four alarm fire.

"I told you I'd pay you later."

Someone wasn't too bothered about being overheard, and that was never a good sign. They exchanged looks, Kensi with a resigned shrug of her shoulders and Deeks with a raised eyebrow. Talk about bad timing.

"You owe me know. Five K. Plus interest."

This was getting worse by the second. Without over-generalising, that sum of money mean one of two things: either the deal involved drugs or it was a down payment on weapons – and that meant they could not simply walk away, because things were about to get bad, and in a packed nightclub, that was a recipe for disaster.

"No such thing as off-duty," Kensi said with a sigh.

"Nope. Over there at three o'clock. Big guy, bald head and goatee. He's the dealer." Deeks nodded in the general direction and then saw a metallic flash. "And the other guy's got a weapon."

"Great." Kensi discretely started to move to her right, knowing that Deeks would be going in the opposite direction.

"Later." The buyer was six inches shorter and at least a hundred pounds lighter, but he had a wicked looking blade in his hand. "I said I'd pay you later." He also seemed to have a death wish, because the dealer looked as if he could eat him up whole without even blinking, and then belch up his shoes as an encore.

"How about you take this outside?" Deeks sidled up to the pair and then discretely showed his ID. "And then we can all talk about this calmly?"

"Fuck." The smaller guy tried to run, but didn't even manage to take a single step, for the good reason that Deeks had a firm hold on his belt.

"Don't make me add 'stupid as shit' to the charges." He was beginning to lose patience now, just wanting to get all this over and done with as quickly and as painlessly as possible.

"And don't think you're going anywhere either," Kensi warned his supplier, having taken up her position behind him. "Like the man said, let's go outside and talk about this." Smooth as silk, she thought. We'll get them outside, call LAPD and still get out of here before midnight. She'd waited for so long, another hour or so wasn't going to make that much difference.

"Who the hell do you think you are, bitch?"

"She thinks she's with me." Deeks countered, sensing things were about to go very wrong indeed.

For a big man, the dealer could move fast. He could move damn fast, pirouetting around like a prima ballerina. In a blur of motion, Kensi only saw his fist approaching her face at the very last second, when it was far too late to duck.

Watching Kensi stagger backwards from the blow, instinctively putting her hands up to her face and then slowly dropping down onto her knees was like setting a match to a roman candle. He'd picked the wrong woman to hit. Worse than that, he'd picked the wrong man to hit her in front of.

Deeks dropped his hold on the buyer and grabbed Kensi's assailant, jabbing the flat of his hand into the guy's windpipe with every single ounce of force he could summon, fuelled by an almost insane amount of anger. With someone that big, you had to act fast and incapacitate them as quickly as possible, or you were dead meat. The dealer went down onto his knees like a felled tree, gasping for breath. For good measure, Deeks took a step back and then slammed his right foot forward, connecting with the man's chin like the most perfect punt at a field goal. Watching him crash backwards, so that his head connected with the floor with an audible thud felt unbelievably satisfying. He was sorely tempted to kick the guy's ribs to smithereens, just for the hell of it.

"Deeks! Leave him." Kensi's voice was slightly muffled, but she was alive and she was talking. "He's not worth it."

"I got this, Deeks." A vaguely familiar face flashed an LAPD ID card and shield. "Jenkins. We worked those liquor store heists together a couple of years back."

Deeks nodded tersely. "Call it in. And don't let the other skunk get out of here."

"No problems. We've got a whole crew from Robbery here, celebrating a major case victory. That pair sure picked the wrong place to have an argument."

"And they picked the wrong fed to punch," Deeks informed him, looking over to where Kensi was now sitting on the floor, both hands up to her face, and looking up at him with a resigned expression in her eyes and he took a long, deep breath, trying to force himself to calm down.

"She's a fed?" Jenkins looked impressed. "Maybe I should ask for a transfer? You always did have the devil's own luck"

"Put your tongue back in – that's my partner." Satisfied that he could leave the off-duty cops to control the situation, he hurried over to Kensi. "You okay?"

The seemingly casual question did not fool her one second, mainly because by that time Deeks was sitting down on the floor beside her, and his arm was around her shoulders and his fingers were digging into her shoulder with a painful urgency.

"Are you okay? Kensi?" Deeks tried to control his fury, which was building up again. If Kensi was hurt, he'd go back over there, rip the guy's balls off with his bare hands and then feed them to him.

"I'm okay." She just didn't expect it to hurt quite this much. That punch had literally made Kensi see stars when it landed and her head felt as if it was at least twice its normal size.

He'd never heard Kensi's voice tremble like that before, and the sound of her unaccustomed vulnerability made Deeks feel as if his heart had just leapt up into his throat. He wanted to pick her up and carry her out of her and just make it all better. But he couldn't and that made him feel helpless.

"You're not okay." If she was okay, then she'd be standing up and screaming at the perp.

"I'm okay." Kensi lifted her head and looked at him through streaming eyes. "I don't think my nose is broken." God, she hoped it wasn't broken. At the last moment, she'd managed to turn her head slightly, so that her mouth and chin absorbed part of the punch. She ran her tongue cautiously around her mouth. "And I think my teeth are still all hanging on in there."

"I'm going to kill him." Deeks took hold of her chin gently and surveyed the damage: her nose certainly looked swollen and there was so much blood that the front of her dress was already soaking. Added to that, she was definitely going to have a fat lip. "That bastard. He's mine."

He started to get back up, but her hand pulled him back down again.

"Leave him. Please." Kensi tried to smile, to show him that she was alright, because the look on Deeks' face scared her and the way he had uttered those few words – with the most complete dispassionately cold fury – had sent a shiver down her spine. Two, maybe three times before she had seen Deeks fly into a tearing rage, to the point where he was almost out of control, but this was completely different. His anger was so controlled that it frightened her, because she had absolutely no doubt that he meant exactly what he said and there was no telling what he might do. Kensi realised that she was looking at a man hell-bent on revenge and one who meant to have that revenge by any means, whether within the law or not.

"Marty? He's not worth it." Kensi reached out and took hold of his hand, taking it in both of hers, just for good measure. "Leave it. Let the police take care of it. Please?"

"He shouldn't have hit you."

"I need you here – with me. Not going off after some drug-dealing scum." She clung onto his hand. "Please?" Asking for help had never come easily to Kensi, but this was different – this seemed right. She did need help – and it wasn't a weakness to admit that. And it also kept Deeks with her, and out of trouble. So it really wasn't a sign of weakness, not at all. It was more like a cunning strategy.

She had never asked him for anything, Deeks realised. Not once, in all the time they had worked together. And Kensi looked more vulnerable than he'd ever seen her before. He cursed his hair-trigger temper – normally he managed to keep it under control, but seeing Kensi go down like that was all it took for him to lose it in a split second.

"You've got me." And that was the truth, he thought. "You've only got to ask. Any time. Any place. Any where." He grinned at her and felt the last remnants of his ice-cold ire melt away, to be replaced by an innate gratitude that Kensi was still in one piece, even if she was battered and bruised. "But I'm going to personally make sure LAPD throw every charge at the book against this guy. And then some." Deeks sat back on his heels and put his hand on her leg, noting that it was hard to tell which one of them was trembling the most. "How about we get you to the hospital?"

"I'm okay."

"Of course you are. You're Wonder Woman. But you gave me a hell of a fright."

That made two of them, Kensi thought. "You want me to go to hospital because you got scared?"

If that was what it took to get her checked out properly, then yes. Hell, yes. "Something like that." He'd never felt anything like the fear of seeing Kensi go down like that, crumpling in on herself, unable to put up any resistance at all, far less fight back. "You scared the crap out of me, Kensi."

"I scared the crap out of myself." She managed a smile, knowing how pathetic she must look, with all the blood and tears mixed up.

"Could be worse – you might have peed your pants."

"I just about did."

"I know. Me too." How come she still looked utterly gorgeous, even all-messed up like that?

* * *

><p>"This wasn't quite what I had planned when I suggested we come back to my place." Deeks spoke softly as he mounted the final flight of steps up to his apartment. "I mean, I had all these plans – soft music, candlelight…"<p>

"And hot sex. Don't forget the hot sex," Kensi mumbled.

"As if." Deeks adjusted her in his arms. "So how are those pain pills working for you?"

"Great. Just great." Kensi tilted her head so that she could look up at him and tried to smile, only her mouth was too swollen to work properly.

"I thought so. The keys are in the my right pocket. So I could either put you down…"

"Or I could go fishing."

Deeks sucked in his breath as her hand darted into the front pocket of his jeans. His very tight jeans.

"Got them!" Kensi waved the keys triumphantly.

"How about you put them in the lock?" Yup, those pain pills were the business. By his reckoning, another ten minutes and Kensi would be dead to the world.

"I could do that." It took her three tries, but finally Kensi managed it.

"Attagirl." By this stage Deeks felt as if his arms and legs were on fire. Carrying a woman upstairs looked as romantic as hell, and it felt great – for about the first ten steps. It was when you lived on the third floor that things started to kind of fall apart. Staggering slightly, he made it through the hall and into the bedroom.

Okay, this was not how it was supposed to be. Sure, Kensi was lying on his bed and he was taking her shoes off, but she was also happily out of her head on medically-prescribed drugs. Suddenly, the full force of the situation hit Deeks like a thunderbolt and his knees almost gave way from underneath him.

"What the hell were we thinking about?"

It could have been so much worse. They were out there, with no weapons and they'd actually walked into a volatile situation – willingly?

"Sex." Kensi pushed herself up onto her elbows and stared at him. "At least I was. I still am." Her eyes were slightly glazed and unfocussed.

"How about you hold that thought till you've healed up a bit?" Deeks suggested.

"He's talking sense." Macy suddenly appeared at the bedside, extended one finger and prodded Kensi gently in the chest, watching with satisfaction as she subsided back onto the pillows. "He's talking sense and you're talking sex. One of you has to compromise. And tonight, that someone is going to be you, Kensi. Now, you just lie there like a good girl and let him take care of you." Her tone brooked no argument.

"You want to take care of me, Marty?"

"You know I do." Deeks sat down on the bed, picked up her hand and looked at it carefully, as if he was seeing it for the very first time. "The question is: are you going to let me?" His thumb was stroking her hand so softly, and it made her feel so secure.

"Sure I am." Kensi's head was spinning and it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep her eyes open.

Deeks raised her hand up to his lips and kissed it tenderly. "Thank you."

Macy wasn't quite sure if he was speaking to Kensi, or to some higher power. She thought about it for a moment and then decided that it really didn't matter. Deeks managed to slip off Kensi's ruined dress and stood looking at her for a long time.

"A silk teddy. In pistachio green." He closed his eyes, trying to imprint the picture in the mind, and then pulled the comforter over her, tucking it in carefully, "Sweet dreams. I'll be right next door if you need me." His kiss was a mere whisper on her forehead, before turning out the light and shutting the door behind him.

"Kensi? Are you awake?"

"No. I'm asleep, Macy."

"That's a good man you've got there."

"I've not got him. Not yet."

Macy lay down beside her. "But you will."

"I do hope so." Kensi rolled over. "Now, shut up and let me go to sleep." The last thing she could remember before sleep swept up over her was the raw look on Deeks' face when he'd watched her go down in the club, and the contrastingly tender expression on his face when he'd kissed her goodnight.

Lying on her back, staring through the darkness up at the ceiling, Macy wondered about Callen, and what he was doing tonight. No, that was the way to madness. Why did it still hurt so much, even though she was dead? Would it ever stop hurting so much? It wasn't that she didn't want Callen to be happy, because she did – he deserved to be happy. But did she have to be around to watch him find happiness with someone else? Why did life have to be so complicated and to hurt so much, even when you were dead? She stared fiercely at the bedroom door.

"Don't you dare hurt her, Marty Deeks, do you hear me? Or I swear, I will come back and I will haunt you."


	15. Chapter 15

_A really long installment this time!_

* * *

><p>Standing outside the apartment just as the pale hues of dawn were starting to colour the sky, Louise slipped her shoes off and then opened the door as quietly as possible before tiptoeing along the hallway with exaggerated caution.<p>

"Exactly what time do you call this?"

"Jesus, Marty! You just about scared me half to death." She tilted her head to one side, and surveyed her brother, who was lying sprawled on the couch in his boxers, with Monty lying at his side. "And cover yourself up. We don't want that body beautiful coming down with the flu before your big night, do we?"

"You're not supposed to be here." They'd had an arrangement, after all. He sat up and glared at her indignantly. Why did little things like privacy not matter to his sister?

"And you're not supposed to be sleeping on the couch, kid. Let me guess, your night didn't quite go according to plan?"

Wasn't it rather early in the relationship for Kensi to be locking the bedroom door already? And given that this was Marty's apartment, why the hell hadn't Kensi just gone home in the first place? Louise knew things were complicated between her brother and his partner, but this was ridiculous. Monty thumped his tail encouragingly on the floor, hoping this new arrival would be better company than his master, who had tossed and turned all night long.

Deeks lay back with a resigned expression on his face. "All my plans went out of the window when Kensi got whacked."

"Kensi got whacked?" Louise sat down with a shocked expression on her face. "Oh my God. What happened? Is she okay?"

"Let me get my feet out of the way first, will you? Before you crush them half to death. " Pulling himself up, Deeks wrapped the quilt around his legs, in an attempt to regain a little dignity. "We were at a club and some scum dealer pulled a knife."

"Kensi was stabbed?" All the colour drained out of Louise's face and her eyes drifted automatically to the two scars on Deeks' chest. "Oh my God." This was getting worse by the second. "Are you all right?"

"No, she didn't get stabbed. Just punched. And I'm fine."

Just punched. Just. There was no 'just' about it. Kensi had gone down and Deeks had felt all his control fly right out of the window because nobody did that to Kensi. Nobody.

"We went to the hospital and there's no major damage done – just a whole lot of soft-tissue trauma."

Louise felt like she could start to breath normally again. "And what about you?"

"What about me? I'm fine."

"No, you're not fine, Marty. You're not fine at all."

He refused to meet her eyes, which Louise knew was always a bad sign. One of these days her kid brother was going to have to learn how to hide his heart a little better, but right now she was just glad that she could read him so easily. She fixed him with her best elder-sister look and continued. "You're not fine, because otherwise you'd be sleeping in the spare room. But you wanted to be out here, so that you could hear her during the night, didn't you? You wanted to be right here, just in case Kensi needed you. Am I right?"

"Go to the top of the class." It was easy to see why Louise was so good in a court room. She just didn't give an inch.

"Seeing her get hurt gave you a hell of a shock, didn't it?"

He nodded, seeing the whole incident replay itself once again, knowing exactly what was going to happen and knowing there wasn't a thing he could do to stop it.

"Good." Louise smacked his legs with the flat of her hand.

"What was that for?"

"Maybe you've finally got some idea about how I felt when I heard you'd been shot. When I eventually heard, I should say. Which was two weeks after the event, Marty. Two whole weeks."

"I didn't want to worry you." Deeks had waited until he'd got out of the hospital and looked slightly less like a ghost before finally telling his sister, who had done exactly what he'd known she would: namely jump on the first flight from New York to LAX. There was a very good reason why he'd never named Louise as his next of kin – because he didn't want to load any additional pressures on to her.

"I worry about you every single day." Louise said automatically and then blinked rapidly. "So next time you 'forget' to call me, remember how guilty you're feeling right now and then pick up the damn phone, okay?" Just so I know you're alive.

"You just love having someone around to boss, don't you?"

"You'd better believe it." Louise reached under the quilt and gave his foot an awkward pat. "You and me – we're all each other has. So don't you forget it." The thought that she could lose him was beyond bearing.

"Yeah. Listen – I'm sorry." Deeks knew he'd screwed up badly there, he just hadn't realised how badly. Louise looked like she was going to start crying again, and that was something he really couldn't cope with at the best of times, far less after a sleepless night.

"Sorry for getting shot or for sorry for being stupid and pig-headed?"

"Both. I guess." More than anything, he was sorry about the way it had affected Louise. Deeks bit his bottom lip, remembering the chewing out Louise had subjected him to when she'd turned up at his apartment, fury radiating out of every pore so that even her hair seemed alive with anger…

"_You stupid, selfish bastard. You get shot and you don't even bother to let me know?" Louise's finger jabbed him in the chest and Deeks took a couple of steps backward._

"_I didn't want to worry you." Did that sound as pathetic as he thought it did?_

"_Do I look worried?" Another poke with that finger and by now Deeks' back was pressing against the wall and there was nowhere further to go._

"_No, actually you look mad." Louise reminded him an awful lot of Kensi when she was in one of her moods. Or was it that Kensi reminded him of Louise? No matter. "You look really mad."_

"_Damn right I'm mad. No - I'm more than mad. I am absolutely furious." A prod accompanied each word of the last sentence, only the last one was rather too close to his recent surgery for comfort and Deeks could not control the gasp of pain that escaped his lips as he doubled over._

"_Marty? Oh God, Marty." Louise was talking, all the anger gone from her voice; she was putting her arms around him, but all Deeks could do was to try to breathe through the pain that was flaring through his body with familiar intensity. "I'm so sorry."_

"_I'm okay." He had just enough breath left to get those few words out before another wave of pain convulsed him. Well, he would be, once he'd chewed down a couple of pills and the world had stopped doing these gut-clenching things to his body._

"_You are not okay. Would you just stop being so fucking macho for once in your life?" She'd virtually dragged him over to the couch, when all Deeks wanted was to be left alone. Like that was going to happened. Hurricane Louise had landed and she wasn't going anywhere soon. After a few minutes of lying prone, he managed to choke down the worst of the pain and his breathing began to return to normal._

"_Look at you." Louise's voice was much softer and she handed across a glass of water and a couple pills_

_He grabbed the pain relief and dry-swallowed the tablets. After a couple more minutes Deeks was able to sit up enough to manage a couple of gulps of water. "I'm okay, Louise." _

"_No, you're not. You're as white as a sheet, you've dropped at least ten pounds and you look like shit." And you could have died, Marty._

"_Thanks, sis. If I ever look really bad, don't be afraid to tell me. I mean, I know how you have this tendency to hold things in. You've got to learn to let it all out."_

_Louise was kneeling beside him, patting his knee with one hand, her thumb making small circles while her other hand rested on his shoulder and her eyes were very bright. "Don't you ever do this to me again, understand?"_

"_I understand." There was only so much nagging a guy could take after all. But a little nagging sometimes felt good, because then you knew you were loved._

"_Promise me, Marty."_

"_I promise I'll be careful." It was the best he could do._

"_It's a good thing I'm here. Someone needs to look after you." Louise took a quick look in the fridge and shook her head. "You could starve to death, Marty. Listen, I'll cook and I'll go to the market for you. I'll even change your bed. But get one thing straight: I am not giving you a bed bath."_

"_Thank God for small mercies."_

And here they were again, sitting in his apartment, thinking about how easy it was for things to go so terribly wrong in the blink of an eye.

"Are you ever going to forgive me, sis?" For getting shot, for not telling you – and for nearly dying and leaving you completely alone? Sometimes the real meaning lay not in the words themselves, but rather in the spaces that fell between and the implied message in his eyes.

"This time. This one time. Just make sure you never do anything like that again."

More than anything, Deeks wished he could promise his sister that everything would be alright, that he would be alright, but they both knew that would be a lie.

"How about I put on some coffee?"

"How about you go put on some clothes?" Louise looked at him and shook her head. "My little brother – the gay icon. It's not quite working for me."

"Join the club." It struck Deeks that his sister and Kensi were really alike. Maybe a bit too alike for comfort? Now, if only he could work out if that was a good thing or not, he'd have it made. Unless they joined forces, of course…

* * *

><p>Kensi woke up and wondered why her face felt so hot and sore. Her nose felt blocked too and for a moment she wondered if she was coming down with a cold. It slowly dawned on her that she wasn't in her own bed, far less in her own apartment and she sat up, to discover she was still in her new and very expensive lingerie.<p>

"No!"

It all came flooding back – last night at the club, dancing with Deeks and feeling as if all the previous barriers they had erected were swept away, feeling the nearness of him and wanting him so much.

"Kensi? Are you all right?" The door crashed open, followed by Deeks who came pelting into the room and then skidded to a halt beside the bed.

"I think so." She touched her nose tentatively.

"It's not broken." Deeks sat down on the bed and she noticed how his chest was heaving.

"But I still look a hell of a mess, don't I?"

It wasn't meant to be like this. She was not meant to wake up alone in his bed, wearing her best underwear and with her face rearranged by some cretin whose shoe size was bigger than his IQ. Last night should have been special and amazing, they should have woken up together, in a tangled muddle of arms and legs and kissed good morning and then made slow, languorous love. Instead, here she was, feeling like death warmed over and Deeks was sitting there, wearing nothing but his boxers, just looking at her with the kind of expression that made Kensi wonder if he'd hit his head.

"No. No, you don't. You look great." Very gently, he kissed her swollen lips and then brushed the tangled hair back from her face. "You look amazing."

"Is it safe to come in?" Louise poked her head around the door. "I can always go away and come back later."

"Come in." Well, one half of the Deeks/Brandel clan had already seen her in her underwear, Kensi thought, so what did she have to lose?

"I thought you might need some fresh clothes, and we're about the same size." Louise left a neat pile at the end of the bed and then stood there awkwardly for a moment, seeing how they were looking at her. "And now I'll go and make some coffee, shall I? Leave you to it." She was decidedly surplus to requirements.

"Good idea, sis." Deeks didn't even look in her direction. "Listen, about last night…"

"Nothing happened."

"I know. But it should have. And it will. Won't it?"

"No. No way. Never." Kensi glared at him. "That was a once-in-a-lifetime, never to be repeated, time-limited offer. It was open for one night only."

The look on his face was enough to make her smile, despite the pain that caused. She punched him lightly on the bicep. "What do you think, Deeks?"

"I think you like beating me up way too much. It's kinky."

Kensi shrugged and then ran one finger slowly down his arm. "Deeks – do me a favour?" Last night had been a good deal of a nightmare, and she didn't like the way it made her feel. Her sense of being invulnerable had been badly dented and right now, for the first time in a long, long time, Kensi needed to be comforted.

There was an edge to her voice that set his nerves jangling. "Sure. Anything. You know that."

"Could you just hold me for a bit?"

Deeks could do that. He could reach out and gather Kensi into her arms and let her cry, stroking her back gently and then brushing the tousled hair away from her hot face and kissing her forehead. He could be here for her because there was nowhere else he would rather be. And he could whisper that she was alright, he had her and he would never let her go, and that he would always be here for her. Sometimes you travelled together, even if you were travelling blindly.

Sitting in the living room, Louise heard the heart-wrenching sobs, and her brother's low, consoling tones. "Come on, Monty. I think it's time you and I were getting out of here. Give them some space." It looked like Marty had found someone at last and that meant she didn't have to worry quite so much about him, because Kensi would be there for him. And maybe, just maybe… No, she wasn't going to go there. It was early days after all. And they'd only had one date – even if it had lasted most of the night until she'd slipped out of that strangely bare house. But anything could happen. Heck, she'd found a brother she hadn't known existed when she was twenty-five, so why shouldn't she find the love of her life at thirty-seven?

* * *

><p>"Dear God in heaven." Hetty took another look at Kensi's swollen face. "Who's been rumbling with the jungle with you?" She had been a good deal of a boxing aficionado in her day and still swore the long flights had been worth it to see that iconic match.<p>

Callen and Sam were at her side in an instant.

"What the hell happened?" Callen took in the swollen nose and puffy mouth, the bruises that were starting to form.

"Where's Deeks? He'd better look one hell of a lot worse than you or he's a dead man." That was Sam, the same Sam who was tilting Kensi's chin with the utmost tenderness to examine her injuries.

"It wasn't Deeks' fault. It was nothing to do with Deeks. It just happened."

"It shouldn't have happened. Bottom line." Sam looked around the Mission. "So where is he? Hiding?"

"Leave Deeks out of this." Kensi jerked her chin out of his hand and then regretted the sudden move, as it set her head to thumping again. "We ran into a drug deal going wrong last night, and I got in the way of a fist. End of story."

"That's not how it works, Kensi."

"You too, Callen? Listen – I don't tell you and Sam how your partnership should work, so how about you return the favour?"

Hetty felt it was time to pour a little oil on troubled waters. "Your colleagues are merely concerned about your well-being, Ms Blye. As am I."

"I know that." Kensi could feel her rage start to simmer down slightly. "It just happened – it was just one of these things. And I know I've probably screwed up the whole undercover operation. I can hardly go to work in the gallery this afternoon looking like this." She'd been putting in a couple of hours here and there, just getting a feel for the place and establishing her legend with the staff and clients. There were no such things as customers in a more exclusive establishment, it turned out – just clients.

"Leave it to me. This actually might work in our favour. We could possible even kill two birds with one stone." Hetty wandered slowly off to her office, deep in thought.

"You can almost see machinations taking place in that devious mind, can't you?" Callen said admiringly.

"You still haven't told me where Deeks is," Sam reminded Kensi.

"Right behind you. With a tray of boiling hot coffee." The tone of Sam's voice had told Deeks all he needed to know.

"You let this happen to Kensi."

"Wait just a minute, Sam Hanna. Nobody lets anything happen to me – except me. I am quite capable of looking after myself. Most of the time," Kensi amended ruefully.

"That doesn't mean Deeks should have been looking out for you."

"He was! I just wasn't fast enough."

Callen reached out and helped himself to a cup of coffee. "Ever feel you're surplus to requirements?" he asked Deeks in an undertone. "These two could go on like this for hours. They don't need you – they can argue quite happily between themselves."

"Really?"

"Oh yes. Just look at them."

Kensi was leaning forward on the balls of her feet, her hands bunched into fists, while Sam was in full lecturing mood.

"What did I tell you, Deeks? We're completely irrelevant."

They wandered off to the gym and the tender mercies of Fraser, leaving Kensi and Sam to continue their battle royal.

"You've got to remember, this is just Sam's way of showing the love."

"I feel sorry for his wife and kid."

"Don't - they manage just fine. Remember how Sam was when you got shot?"

Oh Deeks remembered that, alright. There he was, fresh out of surgery, and there Sam was, glaring at him like an avenging angel. "He gave me one hell of a hard time for not changing my routine."

"Showing the love," Callen confirmed. "Sam-style. Guy was eaten up with guilt – he felt it was his fault – that he'd failed you. Sam just wants to watch over us and make sure we're all okay."

The image of Sam as a guardian angel just didn't sit right with Deeks. "You're only saying this to make me feel better, because you want to go out with my sister again, aren't you?"

Callen took a long swig of coffee before answering. "Some people think you're just another pretty blond, but I've always know there was more to you, Deeks."

"Like my sister?" Deeks knew some first-class crawling when he heard it.

"Got it in one." There was never any harm in having an insurance policy, after all. "So, how did it go last night?" Callen enquired casually.

"Great – right up to the point where Kensi got smacked in the mouth. How about you and Louise?" Deeks gave him a searching look.

"We stayed in. It seemed safer that way. No trouble – you know?" And their night had not been derailed by a trip to the ER.

"No witnesses either."

"There is that."

"So, are you seeing her again?" This felt a bit awkward, given that Callen was a senior agent, but heck, Louise was his sister… and he had a right to be protective. If it was good enough for Sam, then it was good enough for Marty Deeks, he reasoned.

"Tonight."

Wow. Callen wasn't letting the grass grow under his feet. "And you're going to treat my sister right, aren't you?"

Callen clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm going to treat her like a princess – just like she deserves." He couldn't remember when he'd felt quite so good about things or when life had seemed quite so sweet.

"Good. Or I'll set Sam onto you."

* * *

><p>The session with Fraser was much more demanding, as he now had the set-list for the New Year's show and had been working out routines. With only two days in which to teach his students four entirely new dances, he had his work cut out. And that meant that Callen and Deeks were dancing until they felt like dropping. It made the US Marine Boot Camp look like a walk in the park. It was hell on wheels – with music.<p>

"I am going to get fallen arches," Callen said threateningly. "And then I won't be able to dance at all." Which wouldn't be such a bad thing, now he came to think about it.

Fraser gave him a look of utter disdain. "Son, we can sort that. No problem. A pair of orthotics in your boots and you'll be fine." There was nothing that wasn't fixable, as far as Fraser was concerned. And if the worst came to the worst, a quick Glasgow kiss usually sorted things out.

"Boots? Nobody said anything about boots. What sort of boots?" All sorts of visions were going through Callen's mind, most of them rather unpleasant.

"Black leather biker boots." Hetty held them out. "Your size, I believe?" Apart from several extraneous straps and a multitude of studs, they were indeed just regular biker boots, he thought with considerable relief.

"For someone who spent weeks in a CHiPs uniform, you've got awful picky, Callen."

"Those CHiPs boots are crap," Fraser opined. "The tight breeches though – now they are the business. Did you do a George Michael?"

Callen just looked at him.

"Come on – keep up to speed. The old shuttlecock down the front for added emphasis?"

"No need." Callen gave Fraser an icy stare that just dared the man to argue. There was something about his stance that reminded the older man that Callen could probably kill him in any one of a hundred different ways without even breaking a sweat, so Fraser contented himself with casting a disparaging look at Callen's groin and then smirking.

Deeks looked searchingly at Hetty. "Okay, where are mine?" He was beginning to get a bad feeling about this.

"Your boots are being custom made, Mr Deeks. They should be here by tomorrow morning." And if they weren't, that shoe-maker would find his last going somewhere the sun most definitely did not shine.

"How come Deeks gets custom-made boots and I get a pair off the shelf?"

"Because I'm worth it?" Deeks suggested.

Fraser shook his head. "Because you don't get ready-made boxing boots in gold kid leather, do you Hetty?"

All the pain and indignity of the past few days was worth it, Callen felt, just to see Deeks' jaw drop open. Those biker boots looked better by the second.

"Gold leather? Really?" What fresh hell was this?

"Gold kid leather, if you please. Which doesn't come cheap, let me tell you. And have you ever known me to joke about something as vital as clothing and accessories?"

"I don't mind wearing biker boots." He tried an ingratiating smile, but to no avail.

"Oh no, that wouldn't work at all, would it Mr Fraser?"

"Not at all. You, my son, are not the black leather type."

"I could be."

"That's not what the punters want though. And the punters get what the punters want. Which is Callen in black leather, looking all mean." Fraser gave him a feral grin.

"I can do mean," Callen assured him.

"So can I," Deeks said hurridly.

"But it would be such a pity to waste your natural assets, Mr Deeks."

"She means your bonny blond hair, Bobby Shafto." Fraser raised his eyebrows knowingly. "Plus, we want a good contrast between the two of you.

"Innocence and experience," Callen remembered. He'd not been too keen on the original idea, but if it meant he got away lightly by wearing black leather, then that was fine. "I don't suppose there would be any chance of me wearing a face mask too? Just to point out the contrast between me and Golden Boy over there?"

Hetty ignored him, although there was some merit in the idea. "We have a very specific look in mind for you, Mr Deeks."

"The Angel from Barbarella?" Callen felt he was really on a roll now. "With those cute little feather wings?"

"I think that's kind of before our audience's time," Fraser said. "Might even be before their parents' time too."

"We need something they can identify with."

Which was precisely why Callen fancied wearing a gimp mask – to lessen the chances of anyone identifying him. He had to live and work in this town after all.

It was all starting to make some sort of horrible sense to Deeks. He knew he should never have agreed to give Hetty creative control over their costumes. "Not that. Please – not that."

"It's very popular. Quite a cult has sprung up around the show." Hetty was not about to be moved on this.

"I am not wearing gold shorts and being Rocky. No way."

Okay, Callen was officially lost. "You don't look anything like Sylvester Stallone."

"Not Rocky Balboa - Rocky Horror." Deeks saw the blank look of incomprehension on Callen's. "Really? You've never heard of the _Rocky Horror Picture Show_? How can you not have heard of that?"

"Quite simple. I just haven't." If it involved men wearing gold shorts, then Callen felt he could quite cheerfully give it a body swerve.

"It's like a cultural icon."

"Particularly if you are British," Hetty said.

"Which I'm not," Callen informed them. "Which explains why I haven't heard of it."

"If I have to be Rocky, why doesn't Callen have to be Frank N Furter and wear a corset?"

"Now you're just being silly, Mr Deeks." Sometimes Hetty felt as if she was working in a kindergarten.

Callen had the distinct impression that he had got out of this very lightly indeed and made a mental note to hire the DVD to see exactly what they were on about. Then again, he might just rent _Rocky_ for about the hundredth time.

"And Mr Deeks? Do stop pouting, if you please. The wind might change and your face will stay like that."

* * *

><p><em>Gosh - I think we've got a new plot bunny - please welcome fluffy to the warren! He goes rather well with slushy, don't you think?<em>  
><em>You will see that crack-fic bunny has now joined the proceedings, so goodness knows what will happen next. But Deeks as Rocky - isn't that an image to conjure with?<em>  
><em>We may even see devious plot bunny poking his little nose into proceedings soon - lots more in store!<em>


	16. Chapter 16

_Golly - this is the last chapter I will post in 2011... thank you to everyone who has been reading my stories over the last 9 months._  
><em>Originally, this story was supposed to reach its 'climax' on Old Year's Night (as we Scots like to call it), but things didn't quite work out that way. And I decided not to cut out the bits about waxing, costume fitting etc - because they are so much fun!<em>

_So - without further afo, on with the story and a very happy and healthy New Year to everyone._

* * *

><p>Deeks wondered if he should affect a hurt look and then decided not to bother. There was no sense in riling Hetty up any further – not when he had don a pair of figure-hugging gold shorts in a couple of day's time. From what he could remember, those shorts would be very tight and very short indeed and he rather fancied keeping all his assets intact, thank you very much. So clearly there was no sense in making Hetty unnecessarily angry? Of course, annoying Hetty was something he quite often managed to do totally by accident, so it followed that his chances of getting a garment that actually fitted and did not cut off his blood supply were actually pretty slim. Still, he judged it best to remain as impassive as possible.<p>

Fraser decided that the rest period had gone on for quite long enough. "Okay – let's do this one more time, shall we? And this time, do it like you mean it!"

"I'm not good an actor," Callen assured him and tried to assume a lustful look as Deeks swaggered towards him.

"You could have fooled me." Fraser stood with his hands on his hips. "And don't do that. The pelvic thrust is all about sex – not looking as if someone's just kicked you up the jacksie." It was probably just as well that some of his quaint turns of phrase did not really translate into mainstream American English.

"This is getting old." There was only so much enthusiasm you could put into a routine you had done twenty times already.

"It'll be different on the night. Believe me." Fraser fixed them with his small, intense eyes. "You'll be standing backstage, listening to the crowd, and just thinking 'we should be on by now'. Everyone will be rushing around, doing a hundred different things, but all you will be able to think about is that there are hundreds of people out there, who are chanting and screaming and stamping their feet and just waiting for you to come on stage. It will be the longest wait of your life."

"You're doing a great job of making me feel good about this," Deeks told him. "Taking away any nerves I might have."

"And then you're on stage," Fraser said, ignoring the interruption. "And the crowd is silent, just for a minute, before the lights come up. And then the stage bursts into life and the crowd explodes. The noise will hit you and the lights will blind you and the music will be so loud you think your ears are going to start bleeding. And that, gentlemen, is the biggest legal high you can get. Believe me. It's better than sex. You will get up there and you will dance your asses off, you will dance until the sweat is pouring off you – and it will be the best night of your lives. You won't want it ever to end – and when it does, you will have so much energy that you'll feel like you can win the Grand National. That's a horse race," he added, seeing the blank looks. "The most famous horse race in the world?"

"I thought that was the Kentucky Derby?" Callen said.

"Don't make me laugh. Did Elizabeth Taylor make a film about the Kentucky Derby? She most certainly did not. I rest my case. You Yanks are so insular sometimes. Does the name Red Rum mean nothing to you?"

Of course it did, Deeks thought. He'd seen _The Shining_ more times than he cared to remember. Sometimes he wondered in Fraser was a little touched. Perhaps it was best to change the topic of conversation to something safer? "You must miss it – dancing, I mean."

"I miss it like fuck. Pardon my French. But, there comes a time…" There was a nostalgic tinge to Fraser's voice. "And I had some great times. The best times. So don't you pair of numpties go and let me down."

"We won't." Well, as long as he wasn't crippled by whatever costume Hetty saw fit to pour him into, Deeks would do his best. He still wasn't sure about dancing being better than sex though, mainly because he was still trying hard not to think about Kensi. More specifically, he was attempting not to think about sex with Kensi. It wasn't easy, in fact it was almost impossible. Why did she have to get hit in the mouth? Something like a broken arm would have been so much easier to work around. But kissing was kind of essential for what he had in mind. So, until that healed, it looked like the only sex he was going to be getting any time soon was the simulated sort you got from dancing. With Callen. In a gay club. Sometimes life really came up and bit you in the butt.

* * *

><p>"I'm trying to decide." Macy stood beside Kensi and looked at their twin reflections in the mirror of the ladies room.<p>

"Decide what?"

"Well, it's a toss up. Right now, I'm hovering between Angelina Jolie and Meg Ryan."

"You're doing what?" Did being dead rot your brain? Well, of course it did – in the normal course of events – along with everything else. Only this wasn't normal, was it?

Macy ignored her "But really, I think it's going to have to be Melanie Griffiths." She gestured to Kensi's mouth. "The 'trout pout', honey. It's not really a good look."

"It wasn't a good look for Melanie either," Kensi said sourly.

"Nothing is, honey – except when she has Antonio on her arm."

Kensi took a closer look in the mirror. "You're right." It really was not a good look. Lucky it was only temporary. She touched her swollen lips gingerly. "Maybe if I tried some Preparation H? That might do the trick?" Surely there had to be some way she could get her lips back down to something approaching normal size?

"Yeah – and it might also leave your mouth permanently numb. Face it, you're just going to have to put up with this for another couple of days."

"My life sucks."

"That's just wishful thinking." Macy smirked when she saw the deep blush spreading across Kensi's face. "My, what a dirty mind you have, Ms Blye."

"I thought that angels were supposed to be pure and innocent?"

"Who said I was an angel? Do I look like an angel?"

"No, but then you don't look dead either." There was no answer to that one, so Kensi was able to continue her preparations in silence, twisting her hair back into a severe knot, and slipping into a straight skirt and demure blouse.

"You look like somebody's maiden aunt."

"My maiden aunt works for the CIA," Kensi informed her. "And she's a deeply scary woman."

"You take after her, don't you?"

"I'd like to think so." Agatha had been a great role model when Kensi was growing up, plus she never gave boring presents like Barbie dolls, but chose great things like Swiss Army knives and Maglites.

"She sounds interesting. Tell me more about her."

"I'd like to – but then I'd have to kill you."

Macy's face fell. "Someone got there before you, Kensi. I don't think I like being dead, you know? There's still so many things I want to do… and so many things I want to say."

"To Callen?"

"To Callen." Macy took hold of Kensi's hand. "He's moving on, Kensi. He's moving on and I'm still stuck loving him. I think I'll always love him."

"I wish there was something I could say. I really do."

"I know." They looked at one another for a long moment. "Why does life have to be so complicated – even when you're dead?"

"Men." One word that summed it all up, as far as Kensi was concerned. "Life would be a lot simpler if there were no men."

"A lot simpler – but a lot more boring."

"There is that. Men – we can't live with them…"

"… and we wouldn't want to live without them. Why the hell weren't we friends when I was alive, Kensi?"

"It beats me, Macy." Was it completely weird to have a dead person as your best friend?

* * *

><p>"Katie! Your poor face. What happened?" Jennifer, the gallery receptionist, rushed around the desk to meet her.<p>

"I kind of walked into something," Kensi mumbled, and then jumped convincingly as the door opened.

"Four o'clock. I've got things to be doing. So no later or I'm out of here." He swaggered in and stared belligerently at the two women.

"Jennifer – I don't think you've met my boyfriend. Dave – this is Jennifer."

Deeks barely acknowledged her, but Jennifer surveyed his disreputable figure with considerable unease, taking in the sweat-damp hair under a ball-cap, and the tight-fitting sleeveless black t-shirt with a Harley Davidson logo that complimented the large tattoo on his left bicep of a deaths head skull, with the words _'Combat 18'_ above it and _'Blood and Honor'_ below, both inscribed in Gothic script.

"Like I said: four o'clock. You know better than to keep me waiting." The door slammed behind him and there was an uneasy silence in the gallery, as the rest of the staff exchanged looks.

"Dave's very intense," Kensi said, with a weak smile.

"I think it would be a good idea if Dave waited outside for you in future." Aubrey Colter, the gallery manager glided over to them. "There's some cataloguing I'd like you to have a look at – in the rear office." He didn't want that battered face to put any prospective buyers off what could be some very lucrative commissions.

"I'll get right to it," Kensi assured him. "And I'll ask Dave if he wouldn't mind waiting outside." She wrung her hands together nervously.

"How about Katie makes sure she's finished her work before four, and then she can be waiting outside? Maybe even waiting a bit further down the block?" Jennifer wondered what a sweet girl like Katie was doing with a pig like Dave. It was perfectly obvious that he had hit her, and from the way Katie was acting, it had not been the first time either.

"Whatever. I just don't want him coming in to my gallery again." An entirely different type of client walked in at that point, one who appeared to be wearing the entire Ralph Lauren collection and Aubrey immediately breezed over and started fawning.

"Dave's really very sweet, you know?" Kensi confided. "He's just very intense. He feels things very deeply."

"You deserve better, Katie. No man should ever hit a woman."

Kensi liked Jennifer more with each passing moment. "He didn't mean to. It was an accident. And it was partly my fault anyway. He was going to his meeting, and I made him late."

"It wasn't your fault." Jennifer was careful to keep her voice low. "And I know exactly what sort of meeting he was going to. Katie – he's trouble. You need to get out while you still can." She dashed behind the desk and scrawled something on a piece of paper. "That's my cell phone number. Call me any time. And if you need a place to stay – that's fine."

Callen was waiting just around the corner and Deeks took the leather jacket he held out and put it on gratefully as they walked back to the car.

"Well?"

"I think it's safe to say I made an impression. Raised eyebrows and double-takes all around."

"Not hard, when you walk into a gallery run by an African-American and then start flashing those neo-Nazi tats around the place." Hetty had taken advantage of Kensi's injuries and decided to up the ante just a little.

"They make my skin crawl." The sooner they got back to the Mission and Deeks could dive under the showers to scrub them off, the better.

"And talking of making your skin crawl – you are remembering what we've got on tonight?"

"Don't remind me. Full body wax, hair-cut, facial and spray tan. Why doesn't Hetty just throw in a manicure and be done with it?"

Callen gave him a long, very hard stare. "Do not even suggest that. Because that is what we call tempting fate. Hetty has more than enough bad ideas as it is." He pulled out into the traffic. "Okay – we've got a choice – we can go back to the Mission, and get in some more dance practice, or we could just drive around for a bit and then pick Kensi up at four."

"No contest." Deeks reclined the seat as far back as it would go. "I might just catch up on a bit of sleep while I'm at it. Don't want to have bags under my eyes."

"I wouldn't worry about that. Hetty was talking about getting a make-up artist in."

That made Deeks jerk bolt upright. "Really?"

"Why – would you prefer to do your own?"

"I'd prefer not to be wearing any make up at all, thank you very much."

Callen decided this was probably not the time to mention that Hetty was also considering dying Deeks' eyelashes and eyebrows. That would just be a nice little surprise for him.

* * *

><p>"I get to go first."<p>

"No way. I do – because I'm the senior agent."

Hetty interspersed herself between the two men. Boys, it seemed, would always be boys. Even when they were actually grown men, who were allowed to carry concealed weapons. There was something not quite right about that, she thought, but then decided this was neither the time nor the place to address such issues.

"There's only one civilised way to solve this, gentlemen." She pushed them apart. "On my count: one, two, three." If you couldn't beat them, then you might as well just join them.

They banged their fists in the air and then Deeks revealed an open palm, while Callen's hand remained firmly curled up.

"Paper wraps around rock: I win." He sounded unbearably smug.

Callen appealed to the referee. "Best of three. It's always best of three, isn't it, Hetty?"

"You're deciding who gets to get waxed first by playing rock, paper, scissors?" Kensi looked at them in astonishment. "I don't believe it."

"How else could one possibly decide in a fair and equitable manner?" Hetty enquired mildly.

There was really no answer to that. "Why do you want to go first, Deeks?"

"Because the idea of hanging around listening to Callen scream like a girl doesn't really fill me with joy." Deeks' face fell as round two took place and Callen's scissors neatly snipped in his paper in two. There was probably a metaphor in there somewhere, only he really didn't want to think about that too deeply.

"Don't be such a baby. It's not that bad." Kensi considered this. "Well, once you get over the initial shock, that is. And the pain. And the redness usually dies down after three or four hours. Six at the most. Overnight for sure."

Both men flinched at the mere idea.

"You have to suffer to be beautiful, you know."

"Which is why I wanted to make sure it was done in plenty of time," Hetty said sagely. "Are you ready for the deciding round?" She watched with interest as Callen's scissors were blunted on Deeks' rock. "Oh, bad luck, Mr Callen."

"I can cope. Just as long as I don't have to watch." Callen slunk off back to his desk with barely disguised bad grace, while Deeks looked with trepidation towards a screened-off area at the rear of Hetty's office.

"You're sure this is really necessary?" It might be the eleventh hour, but if there was still a chance that he could wriggle out of this, then Deeks was grabbing it with both hands.

"Absolutely. One hundred per cent certain. Would I ask you to do this if it wasn't essential?"

That was the question. And given the wicked twinkle in Hetty's eyes, Deeks was not entirely sure of the answer. He sidled off towards the screens and disappeared behind them.

"Don't even think about it, Ms Blye."

"Me?" Kensi's eyes were round with exaggerated innocence. "I don't know what you mean." It wasn't as if she wanted to be an interested observer or anything like that.

"I do. Want me to go take a peek instead?" Macy started to walk over to the screens. "I could give you a running commentary. What a pity you didn't give me your cell – I could have shot a video for you."

It was surely coincidence that no sooner had the words left her mouth than the phone appeared in Kensi's hand.

"You stay right where you are. Where I can keep an eye on you." Hetty shook her head disapprovingly.

"All my clothes?" Deeks' disembodied voice was a good octave higher than normal. "You want me to take off all my clothes?"

"Kensi does," Macy said slyly.

"I never thought Mr Deeks was the shy type," Hetty mused and then raised her voice. "Do what you are told, Martin Deeks. And I don't want to hear another word out of you."

The protests died away immediately. Thereafter, there was only the sound of ripping and the odd subdued yelp. Callen endeavoured to pretend the whole thing was not happening, but Kensi could not help noticing that he jumped slightly each time he heard the sound of hundreds of tiny hairs being torn out by their roots.

"The Chinese invented water torture," Sam said, coming in chomping on a huge sandwich. "Maybe NCIS could patent the hair-waxing version?"

Callen briefly considered ripping the sandwich out of his hands – it seemed like days since he had eaten anything other than raw fruit and vegetables, but he was aware that Hetty's eyes were firmly upon him. "Don't forget that women would be immune. They not only do this voluntarily, they actually pay good money for it."

"For men," Kensi reminded him. "We do it for men. You must ask Louise how it works for her – you being all smooth and satin-sheened, I mean."

Sam choked so violently that Hetty seriously considered clambering up onto the desk and performing the Heimlich manoeuvre on him. Before Callen could remind Kensi that they might very well await her own comments on a newly-hairless Deeks, the man himself emerged from behind the screens.

"Your turn." He walked very carefully over to his desk and then sat down extremely gingerly.

"How was it?" Forewarned was forearmed, Callen thought.

"It didn't last quite as long as I thought it might."

That was not what Callen wanted to know. "How much did it hurt?"

"On a scale of one to ten?"

Callen nodded.

"Well, that depends. The legs weren't that bad. They weren't that good either, but on the whole, they were okay. I'd give it a three. The chest wasn't too bad either, I suppose. But the armpits…" Deeks shuddered. "Sheer hell."

That still wasn't what Callen wanted to know. "And the rest?"

"I've blotted that out." Deeks pulled the neck of his t-shirt down and displayed a beautifully smooth but decidedly crimson chest. "Look at that and then tell me you wouldn't do exactly the same." He didn't even want to contemplate what his groin looked like and had got dressed with his eyes shut.

Callen took a deep breath, gulped twice and then started walking. Matters were not helped by Sam humming Chopin's _Death March_, or indeed Hetty providing a tympanic accompaniment by tapping her fingers on her desk.

"Don't even try to stop me," Macy said fiercely. "He needs some moral support." She raced after Callen.

"Good luck," Kensi called. They both turned around in perfect unison and flashed identically nervous smiles. After they disappeared behind the screens, she delved into her purse, pulled out a tube and handed it across to Deeks surreptitiously. "Go put that on. Everywhere. And I mean everywhere." She let her eyes drift southwards.

Deeks looked at the label and his eyebrows shot up into his hair. "Diaper rash cream?"

"Exactly. A friend of mine used it after she had a tattoo and swore it was the best thing ever. It's got slight anaesthetic properties." Kensi gave him a knowing nod and a look of gratified relief spread across Deeks' face.

"You are the best partner ever. In the history of the world." Deeks would have run to the men's room, only he judged that might have induced chafing in areas he would really rather not have chafing. Why had nobody told him to put on boxer shorts and loose fitting pants?

"Oh yes! Yes!"

The Mission echoed to the sound of a man finding instant relief. The coolness was instantly soothing and Deeks slathered on another generous handful of the cream. Listening to his ecstatic cries, Kensi just wished that she had had the presence of mind to offer to apply that cream personally.

Meanwhile, Callen gave the waxing technician a wan smile. "I suppose you want them all off?"

"Uh huh." She chewed briefly, and then blew a large bubble. "You take your clothes off and I take the fuzz off. That's the way it works." Supremely disinterested was the only way to describe her. Callen was not sure if he should be relieved or disappointed. He took a closer look and then recoiled.

Dear God in Heaven. She was young enough to be his daughter. There ought to be a law against this, Callen thought. There probably was, in some states. He watched in growing trepidation as she snapped on a pair of latex gloves with a very professional air.

"Okay – up on the couch." Clearly she had been playing hookey the day beauty school dealt with the small matter of customer interaction.

His hands modestly cupping himself, Callen meekly did as he was bid. It would take a better man than him to argue with a teenager in charge of a large quantity of molten wax.

"Not like that."

The disdain in her voice was reminiscent of one of Kensi's dancing lessons, he thought. "So how do you want me?"

Macy smirked, enjoying the view. "Any which way, lover."

"On all fours," the girl replied, and then produced a large spatula with a flourish that made Callen's blood run cold. "This might hurt."

* * *

><p><em>Pop culture references: The Grand National is a British institution- a steeplechase, run on the famous Aintree racetrack.<br>A young Elizabeth Tayor (huge gay icon!) starred in National Velvet, along with Mickey Rooney.  
>Red Rum was a legendary racehorse, who won the National three times.<br>Diaper rash cream really does work to reduce the inflamation after a tattoo.  
>The things you learn from reading fanfic...<em>

_All the very best for 2012 from the plot bunnies and me._


	17. Chapter 17

Might? Might hurt? It hurt alright. It hurt exactly as much as you would expect a having a few hundred hairs being pulled out by their individual roots – and being pulled out of the most delicate place imaginable. Callen gritted his teeth hard, and tried to suppress the low moan he could feel starting to rise up from the base of his lungs. Sadly, he was not entirely successful, and the resultant cries echoed plaintively around the high ceilings of the Mission.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" That infernal teen was now reapplying the strip and yanking out more hairs with gay abandon, chomping on her gum all the time.

"No. It wasn't." Callen found that it was easier to talk in short, sharp bursts. "It was bloody awful."

"Oh, there's no blood. Yet."

That was not exactly reassuring. The next few moments heaped indignity upon indignity, as Callen was forced to assume all sorts of inelegant and highly unflattering poses before he was finally allowed to lie down flat on his back. By this time, he had given up trying to preserve even the slightest modicum of decorum.

"You see all sorts in this job," the waxing demon remarked.

"Really?" Callen found that his hands were gripping the protective paper sheet he lay upon like a drowning man clutches on to a life saver.

"Oh yes." She ladelled on another generous dollop of wax and then spread it around. "Can you just hold that up out of the way?"

Watching from the sidelines, Macy just wished she could be of some practical assistance, as Callen looked heavenwards and just prayed that nobody would walk in and find him like this. Of all the compromising positions he could imagine, this was definitely the worst.

"Okay, take a deep breath and hold it."

No worst. There was none. This was the worst pain imaginable. The sweat stood out in beads on Callen's forehead and his toes were contorted in agony. He didn't dare look down, but he was perfectly certain that he would never be quite the same man again.

"For a couple of old guys, you and the blond guy aren't too bad. He's actually quite hot." This was no ordinary teenager – she was the devil in disguise.

"I'll be sure and tell him you said so."

"Not much of a talker though."

"Strange." Because this was exactly the sort of situation that encouraged light banter and witty repartee, Callne thought. Mind you, this had to be the first time Deeks had not been shooting his mouth off, so maybe it should become a regular occurrence. Callen caught sight of a pile of discarded strips and was horrified by the amount of hair that had been removed. It looked as if an orang-utan had been rolling around on a pile of old-fashioned fly strips.

"Put your arm behind your head."

If she'd told him to put his foot behind his head, Callen would have obeyed, even if that had meant dislocating his hip in the process. It was amazing the power that a teenager could wield – if she had just stripped your groin bare. Over the preceding months, Callen had learned to take what Deeks said with a pinch of salt – or indeed a handful, depending on the situation. But he had been right about the armpits. Oh boy, had Deeks ever been right. He would never doubt the man again. Because this was hell fire personified.

Sucking in a deep breath, Callen then bawled at full strength. "Hetty Lang – I am going to kill you. Slowly."

Deeks blanched. "That would be her doing the armpits then."

"I just hope you left enough of that cream for Callen. Sounds like he's going to need it." Kensi saw the guilty look on his face. "Deeks?"

He held up an almost empty tube. "I'm a big boy, Kensi. There's quite a lot of me. And it wasn't that big a tube to start with."

"Tell him to stop boasting." Macy stalked ahead of Callen, who was not only limping, but holding his arms well away from his sides. "And don't say a single word. The man is in pain. Serious pain."

"You actually do this on a regular basis? Voluntarily?" Callen looked at Kensi and then shook his head in disbelief. "You must be completely mad."

The teenager from the outer reaches of hell emerged from behind the screens, tugging a roller-bag behind her. "I'm outta here. Hetty – it was awesome. Just like you said. See you around." She blew another large bubble and Callen found himself wishing that it would burst all over her face.

"No offense, but once was enough." More than enough.

"You won't be saying that when it all starts to grow back in and you're being driven mad with itching. You'll be begging me to come back."

Right. In some alternate universe. Right about the same time as pigs started whistling and hell froze over.

"Mr Beale will give you a ride home, Melanie dear." Hetty snapped her fingers and Eric came trotting downstairs, halting on the third last step as he saw the confident young woman standing there, with one hand on her hip. "Do give your mother my best wishes."

"Whatever." Melanie shrugged, eyed Eric speculatively and the started to walk out. "Come on dude, I don't bite." She crooked her little finger. "Not unless you want me too."

Eric looked at Melanie with abject terror in his eyes and then clasped his hands protectively in front of himself. He'd heard the muffled squeaks of pain and had no intention of getting too near her. How could someone so young wield so much power?

Melanie inclined her head, pointed imperiously towards the door and flounced out, with Eric pulled along in her wake, a transfixed expression on his face.

"If that is the future…" Kensi let the rest of the sentence hang in the air.

Deeks had no such compunction. "Then God help us all."

"She's actually a very sweet girl." There was a fond smile on Hetty's face.

Sometimes Deeks wondered about his boss. "Hetty – she is a sadist. And very possibly a psychopath too. It's not normal for a teenager to do things like that." And did Melanie really have to smile like that while she did them? She looked like an alligator choosing its next meal.

"She comes from a very good family."

Callen didn't care if she came from Alpha Centauri. "Doing stuff like that could scar her for life." He just hoped he wasn't scarred for life, because right now his crotch felt like it was on fire.

* * *

><p>"How are you doing?" SHe knew she would find him up here, it was where Deeks always went to escape<p>

Few people knew that you could go up onto the flat roof of the Mission, but it was one of Deeks' favourite places, the place he came to when he needed a few minutes respite from the hurdy-gurdy pace of life. Up here it was quiet and peaceful, so that you felt isolated from all the pressures of life. Plus, there was an unrivalled view of the ocean,where the sun was currently drowning itself in a burning ball of crimson fire.

"I'm getting there. How about you?" He turned his head and watched as she walked slowly towards him.

"Me? I'm fine." Kensi wandered over to the low parapet wall, and then stared down at the street below, wondering at all the people rushing back and forth, so caught up in their own lives, their own small problems. Up here, she felt completely removed from the petty mundanities of everyday life.

"Really?" Deeks was sitting yoga-style on the sun-warmed roof, relaxed and composed. The dying rays of the sun cast an amber glow around him, highlighting his hair and making his eyes seem impossibly blue: as blue as the ocean, Kensi thought.

"Really." She touched her face tentatively and was relieved to find it was marginally less sore and felt slightly less tight and puffy. Maybe that herbal tea Hetty had pressed on her all day long really did have healing properties after all? She hoped so, because it had tasted absolutely foul.

"We need to talk, Kensi. About last night." Unfolding his legs, Deeks came to stand behind her.

"What about last night? Nothing happened." Kensi could sense his presence, feel the nearness of his body and she moved slightly, arching her back just enough so that her shoulders brushed against his chest.

Closing the gap would be nothing – it did not even require him to take a step forward, merely to adjust his stance slightly, move his body so that it was barely touching hers. Deeks exhaled slowly.

"No - something happened. Something definitely happened." He hadn't been able to stop thinking about that kiss all day. That kiss, everything that had not happened and everything that could still hapen. Tentatively, Deeks put his arms around Kensi's waist and then rested his chin on her shoulder. It was such a small step, in fact it was hardly a step at all, it was more of a gesture. There was almost no gap between them at all now.

"It did, didn't it?" A smile spread across Kensi's face as she leant back against him and felt his arms tightened around her, wrapping her close to him so that it felt as if nothing could touch them. It felt so right, as if this was pre-ordained. "I felt it too, Deeks." And she was feeling it all over again, a sense of urgent, burning need, building up inside her.

"We should talk." There was so much left unsaid and left hanging in the air, so many questions that had been asked and then left unanswered.

"We probably should." They'd come close to talking once before, when Deeks was 'sacked' by Hetty, only there had not been either the time or the place. Things were different now: there were no more secrets, no more lies. "But not today." She didn't want to spoil everything, she just wanted to have this one perfect memory, a moment suspended it time, preserved for all eternity. Deeks' hands were clasped around her waist and Kensi placed her own hands on top of them. "Let's just stand here a while, okay?" She could feel his warm breath upon her neck and she angled her head slightly.

"Whatever you want." He could smell the sunlight in her hair. And there were worse places to be than standing on the roof of a building, watching the most glorious sunset in the history of the world and holding a beautiful woman in your arms.

It was no good. No good at all. This wasn't working. He couldn't just stand here and pretend that nothing had happened – because it had. He knew and she knew it and all of a sudden Deeks could not pretend any longer, nor could he hold back for one single moment. His lips gently touched the exposed curve of her neck, a light, delicate touch that seemed to send a jolt of energy straight into the centre of Kensi's being.

"Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?" Her scent enveloped him and Deeks continued to kiss her, a series of kisses that fluttered down to her collar bone and then traced back up towards her ear and Kensi found that her body was pressing hard against his and that Deeks was pulling her closer.

"Start now." Kensi arched her back once again and then turned around so that she was facing him, one hand clutching his butt, the other resting trustingly on the back of his neck. "You can start right now."

Time seemed to jump into hyperspace, and then to come to a standstill. Nothing else mattered, nothing else existed, except two people, standing on top of a roof, bathed in the warm, golden rays that marked both the end of the day and the beginning of something brand new.

"It's you, Kensi. It's just you. And everything about you."

It was safe. She made him feel safe. More than that, Kensi made him feel whole and healed.

Kensi pressed her cheek against his. "It's always been you." Nobody else had ever made her heart beat in double time. No-one had ever given her the sense that this was meant to be and that she could finally be complete and whole.

A discrete cough made them jump apart. "I do hope I'm not interrupting?" Hetty stood with her hands clasped behind her back and a typically inscrutable expression on her face. "I'm afraid I require your presence downstairs, Mr Deeks. The small matter of your hair?"

"What are you doing to his hair?" Kensi asked suspiciously.

"Not me, personally – although dear Vidal was most complimentary about my scissor skills – he said they were second only to his own." Hetty permitted herself a small smile. "No, I've brought in one of the top stylists in LA." So this month's budget was going to blow the bank? It would be worth it.

"Don't take too much off," Kensi begged, letting her fingers rove absently through the curls at the nape of Deeks' neck.

"On the contrary – what I was thinking of was…"

Sometimes Deeks wondered if he was invisible. "Excuse me? I am standing right here. And it is my hair."

"He doesn't want his ears to show," Kensi confided.

"I can understand that completely. Don't worry, Mr Deeks, we won't add unnecessarily to your embarrassment."

Great – just when things were going so well, they had to crash and burn. Deeks watched as the sun finally disappeared into the ocean and then walked back down into the shadowed hallway of the Mission.


	18. Chapter 18

"I'm going to have my work cut out here, I can see that."

Sitting side by side, Callen and Deeks exchanged twin looks of incomprehension in the mirrors.

"Why – exactly?" Deeks enquired. Okay, so his hair was a touch on the shaggy side – but it was good hair. In fact, it was REALLY good hair. Wasn't it? It was thick, it was blond, it had a natural bounce – and most important of all, it hadn't started to recede. What more could any guy ask for? His hair was an integral part of who he was – it gave out that laid-back kind of vibe, which was actually pretty clever, given that he never did that much with it in the first place = just washed it and then let it do its own thing. Driving in to work with the windows down was a great way of drying his hair really fast.

"Where do you want me to start? You two are meant to be objects of lust, right?" The hairdresser sounded supremely unconvinced.

"Right." Callen eye-balled him. "And your problem with that is – what exactly?"

"Your hair. You've not got enough and he's got too much. Plus, the colour's all wrong. Again, that applies to both of you."

"What's wrong with my hair colour?" Callen leant forward and studied his refection. "Dark blond – with a few golden highlights. Natural highlights," he added quickly.

"Try medium mouse, more like. You're going darker." His tone left no room for argument.

Callen subsided back into the chair. He was getting beyond the point of even bothering to object to anything this operation threw up, because he was never going to win. Besides which, that was the undoubted benefit of having really short hair – in a couple of weeks it would have grown enough to get any colour cut out. By his reckoning, there really wasn't any point in getting too worked up about all this. He might just as well sit back, relax and go with the flow.

"And as for you." He picked up a lock of Deeks' hair and ran it through finger and thumb. "Ever heard of conditioner?"

"Deeks hasn't even heard of a brush and comb," Callen said helpfully. He still hadn't forgiven Deeks for using all the diaper rash cream.

"I mostly just wash and go," Deeks admitted.

"I can see that. You used to be blond?"

"I am blond."

"Mmm. If you say so. Kind of a dirty blond though. And you've been getting a little help, haven't you?"

Callen turned around and scrutinised his friend carefully. "Now you come to mention it, his hair is darker underneath," he realised.

"that's because it doesn't get the sun so much. It's lighter on top because of sunlight and sea water." Deeks though it was important to emphasise this last point. "I'm blond. Naturally blond," he added, just in case anyone thought differently.

"If you say so." The hairdresser looked both unconvinced and unimpressed.

"Pity all the other evidence has been removed." Callen let his eyes drift down to Deeks' lap.

"You were not going to check down there anyway, Callen. You want proof – just look at my eyebrows." He pointed. "Look – blond. Okay?"

"There's no need to get quite so worked up about it," the hairdresser said. "Anyone would think you had something to hide. Not that it's important, because Miss Lang wants you blonder."

"How much blonder?" Deeks asked suspiciously

"Think six weeks in Hawaii."

That sounded okay. The 'sun-kissed surfer' look was pretty much what he aspired to anyway. Actually, six weeks in Hawaii sounded downright amazing. Pity it wasn't going to happen any time soon.

"So we'll get started on your highlights. And while they're developing, we can start putting your friend's extensions in."

"My what?" Callen was sure he must be hearing things.

"Your extensions. Hair extensions?"

"Callen doesn't get out much," Deeks explained. "Modern culture has pretty much by-passed him."

"Okay, I'll explain this simply: your hair's too short. It doesn't work. So I'm going to glue individual extensions – made of real hair, mind you – onto your own hair. It'll take years off you."

"How many years?" Thicker, fuller, longer hair was beginning to sound really good.

"At least five. You'll be a new man. You won't recognise yourself."

A new man? A new, younger man? Well, what wasn't to like with that proposition? It was a deal. Callen leaned back in his chair with a contended smile. "Do your worst."

* * *

><p>"Well? What do you think?"<p>

Deeks thought he looked exactly like he'd spent the best summer of his life out on the waves. His hair was blond (well, blonder – quite a lot blonder, actually), the spray tan had given his body a deeper tone of caramel than normal and his face seemed to glow with health. He still wasn't convinced by the dark eyelashes (and who ever have thought that you could dye eyelashes? Women were certainly sneaky) but at least he'd preserved his eyebrows from any chemical assault.

"It's okay, I guess." Well, he didn't want to appear too keen on all this primping and pampering. Thank God Callen had been subjected to a spray-tan and facial too, or his life would not have been worth living.

"We'll do you hair properly on the night." The hairdresser stood back and admired his handiwork – a layered, textured cut that encouraged all the natural waves in Deeks' hair to fall into tousled curls.

"It looks fine as it is." Deeks had never understood all this fuss about styling hair – his pretty much did what it wanted and he was quite happy to let it do just that. Why try to improve on what was pretty much perfection?

"That's because it's been brushed," Callen informed him – a markedly different Callen. A Callen who now sported a head of mid-brown hair, that waved gently and did indeed take years off him.

"See how the darker colour has brought out the blue of your eyes?" the hairdresser asked.

Callen saw. And he liked. "You were right about my eyebrows, he admitted. Making them the same colour as his hair really had made his eyes 'pop', just as the hairdresser had assured him it would. And the tan was working too. He wondered what Louise would think about the new man she'd suddenly got in her life and took a look at his watch. "Ten o'clock? How can it be that late?" Louise was going to kill him.

"It takes a lot of work to make you look this good. Considering what I had to work with." The hairdresser sounded quite huffy: did these two think he was doing this for the good of his health or something?

"And you've done a wonderful job." Hetty gestured to her agents. "Stand up and let me get the full, head-to-toe view then."

Correctly assuming that there was no viable alternative, Callen and Deeks did just that. And then turned around slowly at her command.

"Very nice, gentlemen. Very nice indeed. Now, I think you should take this new look of yours out on the town. Just to get a feel for the lay of the land."

Callen had been wanting to get a feel too – of Louise. But maybe he could give her a call and hook up with her? It wasn't that late, after all.

"Where about 'on the town'? Exactly?" Deeks asked. He'd learned not to buy any pigs in pokes from Hetty – he'd learned that the painful way.

"Why, _Cavalier_, of course. Where else did you think?"

_Cavalier_ – of course. Where else would they possible want to go to except to the newest and hottest gay club in town?

"_Cavalier_ it is then." Callen shrugged. There would be other nights with Louise – he hoped.

"Not so fast. You can't go looking like that."

"I can't?" Deeks looked down at his jeans.

"Definitely not. You have an image to project. Luckily, I have something that should fit the bill nicely." Hetty emphasised the word 'fit' ever so slightly and Callen looked at her suspiciously.

"Should I be worried?"

"I don't know, Mr Callen – should you?" She raised her eyebrows slightly. "When have I ever let you down?"

Well, as far as Deeks was concerned, on the clothing-front, Hetty's taste was somewhat of a mixed bag. The tailored evening wear was generally fine, but other than that she had a slightly disturbing habit of producing shiny suits that he would rather not be forced into, although Callen did not seem to mind particularly. Then again, clothes didn't exactly figure highly on Callen's list of importance.

"I suppose Kensi's gone home?" he asked, as Hetty ushered him towards a changing cubicle.

"Of course she has – I sent her away hours ago. That girl needs a good night's sleep. Did you think she might still be here?"

"Kind of." Deeks looked crestfallen. For some reason, he had hoped she would still be around.

"How interesting." Hetty resisted the temptation to pat him consoling on the butt. The bright blonde hair had added a certain youthful quality to his appearance that she found very tempting. "Now, go and get changed. The night is still young."

Callen was already getting changed, and found his own clothing to be largely unobjectionable – dark trousers and a muscle-shirt in bright orange. Plus a chunky gold chain and stacked heel boots. Not exactly his first choice of outfit, but nothing too bad, even if the shirt was a little tighter than he would have chosen himself. And actually, with his new hair colour and darker tan, the effect was actually alright. He looked like a different man, Callen realised and walked out with a spring in his step.

"Come on, Deeks. What's keeping you?" The curtain was still firmly shut, with Deeks safely behind it, hidden from view.

"Hetty – I think you ordered the wrong size jeans." He sounded slightly breathless.

"I can assure you that I did not, Mr Deeks." She'd ordered a size smaller than he normally wore on purpose.

"They won't fasten."

"That's because you're not trying hard enough. Breath in. Hard."

"I am breathing in. But if I fasten these jeans, I'm not going to be able to breath, period."

"Try lying down on the floor. Or I could come in and help you?"

"I'll manage. Somehow." There was a long period of silence, and then finally the sound of a zip being pulled up. The curtains were finally pulled back and a slightly red-faced Deeks walked out.

"Pink is so your colour," Callen informed him. "That shirt matches your cheeks. So cute." He wasn't going to comment about the sprayed-on jeans.

"I need help."

"I know that. I've been saying that since the first time we met. But it's a bit late now."

"With my boots." Deeks held out a pair of alligator cowboy boots. "I can't bend over to get them on."

"Do stop being such a baby, Mr Deeks. You have to suffer for your art."

Kensi rounded the corner, having conveniently ignored Hetty's instructions to go home and get a good night's rest and settled instead for a quick nap on the sofa. "Oh my. Oh me, oh my." A broad smile began to creep across her face and this time she didn't care if her mouth still hurt. "Aren't you both a sight for sore eyes?"

"Man candy," Macy agreed, licking her lips. "Just about too hot to handle. I've got to give it to Hetty – she knows exactly the right way to package a man."

Kensi could not have agreed more – in fact her eyes were very firmly glued to Deeks' package.

"Are you boys going somewhere?" she asked, once she'd finally recovered her breath.

"Dancing," Callen said. "When Cinderella here gets his boots on."

"Sit down." Kensi pointed to a chair. "Sit down right there and let me give you a hand."

"I love it when you get all masterful." Deeks batted his eyelashes and Kensi felt her stomach curl up into a ball and then start to do lazy backflips. "How about you come with us?"

"I don't think that will be possible."

It was strange to open her mouth and then to hear Hetty's voice coming out and saying something completely different, Kensi thought. Strange and incredibly frustrating.

"You and Mr Callen will be going there under your new identities, Mr Deeks. And that means lady friends will be out of the question, if you get my drift."

Kensi bit down her disappointment and concentrated on putting on Deeks socks'. How come she'd never noticed what nice feet he had before?

"Maybe another time," she whispered and thought once more about what Macy had said – that in the other timeline they had met one night in a club, and that in turn had led to great sex. It seemed that wasn't going to come true in this reality. Bugger, as Hetty might say. Bugger, bugger, bugger. And he looked so damn cute in those jeans and that pale pink shirt. The boots were just the final, crowning glory, she thought as Deeks stood up and ran his fingers through his hair – the newly golden hair, that seemed even brighter under the electric lights of the Mission.

"Another time maybe?" he suggested, wondering why his life always had to be so complicated.

"Definitely. Definitely maybe." It wasn't quite a date, but it was the next best thing.

"Why don't you give Louise a call? She doesn't exactly know many people and there's a limit to how much entertainment Monty can provide."

"And you could give her my apologies at the same time. Tell her something came up." Callen looked hopefully at Kensi and she realised that another couple were just as disappointed by Hetty's decision.

"I'll do that." There were worse things than having a girl's night in, weren't there? Kensi decided to grab a couple of bottles of wine on the way over, and maybe pick up a movie to watch. Somehow, she thought that Deeks' DVD collection might be low on the chick flick/rom com quotient. And who knows what she might find out about Deeks after a couple of glasses of wine? This could actually work out very nicely indeed – once she got over feeling so frustrated. Twenty four hours ago, they'd been poised on the threshold of falling into bed with together, and now here she was, battered and bruised and watching Deeks go out on the town looking better than she'd ever seen him look before. Out with Callen, for God's sake. There was something very wrong with that picture. Who the heck was going to buy them as a gay couple?

* * *

><p>"We are not a couple," Callen said fiercely. "Understand that?" He revved the Aston Martin rather unnecessarily, just to make the point.<p>

"Perfectly." Deeks looked at him blandly. "You're not my type."

"I thought you had a 'thing' for brunets?"

Sometimes Deeks really wished that Ray had kept his big mouth shut. "You're not a natural brunet though, are you? More of a 'medium mouse', if I recall correctly."

"You're hardly one to talk, are you blondie? But like I said – we're not a couple. We are just two guys who happen to be going out to a club. Together." Which was obviously completely different.

"Two gay guys," Deeks reminded him.

"Two gay guy who are not even remotely attracted to each other," Callen said emphatically

"I already said that you're not my type." Deeks took a long, hard look at him. "Contrary to your belief, I can resist jumping on you."

"Likewise."

"I should hope so – seeing as how you're dating my sister. That would be perverted."

"I was waiting for you to bring that up."

"Were you?" Deeks settled himself a little more comfortably in the seat – these jeans actually had quite a lot of lycra in them, which was proving to be a godsend. He was acutely aware that Callen was most uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was taking and found that he was rather enjoying that fact.

"Well, she is your sister." And he'd already told Deeks he would treat her properly. Callen had rather hoped that would an end to the matter.

"She is." Deeks wondered just how much rope he would have to give Callen before the man made himself a neat noose and then hanged himself. This was really rather amusing.

"So I'm guessing you feel rather protective towards her?"

"Are you?" Deeks gave him an interested look. "Are you really?" Callen clearly didn't know Louise very well – except in the Biblical sense of course. Only he didn't want to think about that. What Louise did – and with whom - was her own business. Unless the guy hurt her, in which case it became his business.

"Well, I suppose you want to make sure that…"

"Your intentions are honourable?" Deeks suggested helpfully. "Well? Are they?"

This conversation was so not going the way Callen had envisaged it. "I really like her."

"And you respect her – don't you?" Assuming the role of outraged brother protecting his virtuous sister's delicate sensibilities was really rather hilarious, Deeks discovered.

"Of course I do."

"Good. I wouldn't want to think you were sleeping with her, or anything like that. I know what you're like Callen, remember? All those short-term relationships." Deeks was the picture of outrage and Callen felt his heart sink.

"I finish one relationship before I start another." That probably wasn't the right thing to say, Callen realised. Not to a pumped-up Deeks, who just happened to be Louise's brother. Louise's very, very protective brother.

"Congratulations."

"It's not like you're any different." Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.

"I'm not dating your sister though, am I?"

"You're dating Kensi."

"Wrong." Deeks let out a heartfelt sigh. "I wish I was though."

"Oh. I kind of thought… I mean, you went out to the club and then she stayed over at your place and…"

"Nothing happened. I slept on the couch – until I was woken up by my sister coming home in the early hours of the morning. From a night out with you. That she spent in your house and presumably in your bed."

Damn. Callen had hoped he'd managed to turn the conversation around to safer topic, only for it to be brought right back on track again. Deeks was good. The law had missed out on a first-class litigator in him. "Yeah. Well. We're both grown ups," he said lamely.

"You will not mess with my sister, understand? You might be screwing her but you will not screw her up. I know all about your commitment issues, Callen." The joking was over now and he was completely serious.

"I don't have commitment issues."

"Come on. Of course you do. Just think about it. You must have asked yourself why none of your relationships last more than six weeks. Six weeks maximum."

"Okay, you're right. Maybe I do have commitment issues. But this is different – Louise is different."

"Glad to hear it. Make sure it stays that way."

"You are so lucky, do you know that, Deeks?"

Lucky? Deeks did not feel lucky. At least Callen had got his rocks off last night. "How come?"

"To have a sister you can love so much."

He was glad they were driving and that it was dark outside, because there was no way he wanted Callen to see how much that statement affected him. "Yeah, well Louise is pretty special."

"She is. She really is." They lapsed into silence after that, as Callen thought about just how special Louise really was and how she might just be the one he'd been looking for.

* * *

><p>When Kensi had called Louise to set up the arrangements, she had thought it was just going to be the two of them, hanging out in Deeks' apartment. While it wasn't exactly a surprise to find Monty there, she had not been expecting Macy. But then Macy was nothing if not unpredictable. She was also wearing the furious visage of an avenging angel. It looked like their girly bonding session was going to be very interesting indeed. Exactly how much damage could a dead NCIS agent do after all?<p>

* * *

><p><em>I'm rather liking this new, protective Deeks! he's rather cute. What am I saying - he's adorable. Especially with extra-blond hair.<em>


	19. Chapter 19

"I brought movies." Kensi handed over a selection. "Basically, the Meg Ryan collection. Because I kind of figured Deeks wouldn't have anything we'd fancy watching."

"Louise does not look anything like Meg Ryan." Macy took a step forward for a closer look. "Not that much. Hardly at all, in fact."

So that was who Louise reminded Kensi of – apart from Deeks, of course. It had been nagging away at her for ages now – the hair, the eyes and the smile, and now it all made perfect sense. Louise was a dead ringer for the younger Meg Ryan. Meg before the disastrous trout pout, of course.

Louise took a look at the DVDs. "_You've Got Mail_ – I love that movie. And _Sleepless in Seattle_. Great choices."

"And Callen looks nothing like Tom Hanks. He's much shorter, just for starters." Macy sounded decidedly huffy about the way things were progressing here. Kensi was her friend – wasn't she?

"And _Mamma Mia_. Obviously." Kensi reckoned that went without saying. How could you have a girls' night in without _Mamma Mia_, after all?

"I love that movie." Sunshine, strong women, handsome men – and finding love. What wasn't there to love about _Mamma Mia_? The fact that it had slight co-incidences with her own life was just that – a complete co-incidence – wasn't it?

"You should have gone with Julia Roberts," Macy said. "How about _Pretty Woman_? You know – the film about a woman with less-than-stellar morals, who tricks a hard working man into falling for her? Or how about _Steel Magnolias_? She dies at the end of that." She gave Louise a look filled with hate. "If only."

Kensi tried to keep a straight face. This did not seem to be either the time or place to remind Macy that she was the dead one, while Louise was not only alive and well, but very possibly in love.

"Thank you for bringing some decent movies over. My little brother's taste in films leaves a lot to be desired. It's either something with subtitles or all the stuff that he's not supposed to watch."

"Porn! Deeks has a secret stash of porn, doesn't he? I knew it was too good to be true." Macy's eyes lit up and she rushed over to inspect the evidence, while Kensi merely raised her eyebrows curiously.

"There's a story in there, isn't there?" Kensi asked.

"Oh yes." Louise shook her head fondly. "Do not let Marty watch a film where an animal gets hurt – or worse, where it dies. He was a wreck for a whole week after he watched _Marley and Me_. My brother – the big tough guy, who sobs his socks off at the drop of a hat. You won't tell him I told you, will you?" she added anxiously, wondering if maybe she'd said too much, and then decided that maybe Kensi deserved to know a little bit more about her partner

"Your secret's safe with me." It was strange, but Kensi felt this warm glow inside her. "He really cries at animal films?" She knew Deeks loved animals, dogs especially, but this was an entirely new revelation. She looked down at Monty and saw him through different eyes – through Deeks' eyes.

"Oh yes. Like a baby. _Old Yeller_ – that was especially bad. Marty saw that right after his dog was taken off to the pound and said he didn't sleep for a week afterwards. Of course, he was only a kid at the time. And it was right after our father was hauled off by the cops. What his mother was thinking of, I'll never know." There was a hard edge to Louise's voice. "But then she didn't think much about anything, except herself. I just wish I had known Marty back then – or even known about him. Things could have been so different."

That was one regret that would always live with Louise: that she had not been able to rescue her brother from his awful childhood. Sometimes she felt guilty that her own life had been so different.

"I wish you had too." But Deeks had come through the past and become the man he was in the present. And Kensi could not stop thinking about the future and all that it might hold for them together.

"I just wish Deeks had some porn," Macy admitted. "If a man's going to have a secret movie collection, it should have better stuff than this. _Babe_? _Lassie_? _White Fang_?" She shook her head in disgust.

"I need a drink." Louise grabbed two glasses and poured them each a generous measure of wine. "Here's to the future."

"To the future." Kensi recognised the gleam in the older woman's eyes and thought she might just have found a new friend – and a possible ally. "Now, about your brother…"

"Marty? What about him?" Louise sprawled comfortably on the couch.

"I'll do you a deal: you tell me about Deeks and I'll tell you about Callen."

"Traitor." Macy shook her head. "You're going to give her the inside track, aren't you?"

"What exactly do you want to know?" Louise produced a box of chocolates from underneath the coffee table and handed them across. It made sense, Kensi thought. Any decent girls' night in involved alcohol, chocolate and chick flicks. Nail polish usually factored into the equation too, somewhere along the line.

"Why don't you start at the beginning? Marty Deeks – the formative years?" Al of a sudden, Kensi found that she wanted to know everything about him. "Pictures would be good – if you have any."

Louise pulled out her phone and brought up an app. "You want pictures – I can do pictures. After you tell me something - why do call him 'Deeks' all the time?"

"Because that's his name."

"No – his name's Marty. So why does nobody ever call him that?" This had been really bugging Louise for some time now. It just sounded so impersonal, like he was less than a human being, or like he didn't really belong to the team.

"Same reason as we call Callen 'Callen', I guess."

"No, that's completely different. Callen hasn't got a first name, on account of the fact he carelessly lost his somewhere along the way."

"Which is why I called him 'George'," Macy said. "George is a good name – you know you can trust someone called George, don't you? Georges are strong and they stick to you, no matter what." She was silent after that. "So maybe it wasn't such a good choice of name after all."

Kensi sat on the floor and leaned back against the couch. "I don't know," she said slowly, turning the question over in her mind. She had called him 'Marty' though – hadn't she? Once or twice, when her guard had slipped. Because he was Deeks at work and Marty in her dreams and she was careful to keep the two separate.

"Maybe you should think about it? See what you can come up with?" Louise's hand appeared over the shoulder and the cell phone dropped down into Kensi's lap. "There you go. He sent that one to me."

The boy in the photo looked about seven or eight. There was nothing remarkable about him, he could have been any one of a hundred kids with hair so fair it turned almost white in summer, and large blue eyes – if only it had not been for the look on his face. He was far too young to have such a look of resignation in those wide open eyes or too look quite so scared. And he was far too skinny. It was a small picture, and hard to make out the details, but when Kensi tapped the screen and enlarged it, she could see the bruises on his arms quite clearly – the bruises in the shape of finger prints, as if someone had held onto the child's arm too tightly.

"A picture says a thousand words, doesn't it?" Louise took her cell back and stared at the picture for a long while. "I guess there were a lot more bruises underneath that t-shirt and shorts."

"He looks so resigned. And so alone." Kensi could feel a ball of pain inside her chest and she wanted to reach out across the years and comfort this little boy. Everyone had wounds on their souls; the difference was that some people wore them as a badge of pride, while other kept them firmly behind a mask of amiability.

"Take another look," Louise invited. "He looks like a survivor. Which he is. Only now Marty hides his heart. You get hurt that many times, you learn not to expose yourself, so that nobody can see how much they hurt you." She pulled up another picture and showed it to Kensi. In this one, the boy was kneeling down beside a dog, his arms around its neck and there was a smile on his face.

"That was the dog his mother sent away?" It was a nondescript looking creature, but it was made beautiful by the boy's love.

"That's the one. He really loved that dog."

"What was it called?" Kensi took a large mouthful of wine. She must have already drunk more than she had realised, because she was feeling very sentimental.

Louise smiled. "Monty," she said, and the dog's tail thumped on the floor trustingly. "He called his dog 'Monty'."

Of course he did. It all made perfect sense. Kensi let her hand stroke Monty's rough fur and watched as he rolled onto his side and lifted one paw in the air so that she could scratch his belly. The dog's eyes were full of trust. "I think you've told me everything I need to know about your brother," she said. "About Marty."

Macy had already shown her that you could not rewrite the past – not without catastrophic consequences, but you had to admire a man who remembered the one creature that had shown him unconditional love and tried to replay that one positive part of his life. Or maybe you just had to love him?

"We all need someone to love, Kensi."

"Yes, we do." Monty's eyes were closed in ecstasy as she gently rubbed his chest. "Someone to love and to love us back." In the end, that was all anyone really wanted – whether you were a skinny little boy, a mangy mutt or even Kensi Marie Blye, NCIS Special Agent. In the end, love was all anyone wanted. And Kensi realised she had so much love to give, all this love that was simply lying inside her with nowhere to go. It was time it found a home.

"Maybe you and I are about to get lucky?" Louise sat upright and grabbed a DVD, not caring which one. If they continued like this, they would end up sobbing in each other's arms.

"Maybe we are." Kensi sat back and watched as the opening credits of _Mamma Mia_ came onto Deeks' huge TV. "You know the words?"

"Do I know the words? Kensi, I not only know the words, I've got the dance routines down pat too." Louise poured them both another large glass of wine. Brought up an only child, she had been in her mid-twenties when she'd discovered her brother, and now she was in her mid-thirties Louise reckoned it was about time she added a sister to the mix. All she had to do was to make sure her brother didn't mess things up.

"Great. Now everyone's got someone to love. Even the damn dog's got someone to love. Everyone but me." Macy didn't even have the satisfaction of being able to get drunk.

* * *

><p>"Don't walk," Deeks hissed and Callen stopped dead in his tracks.<p>

"You want me to jog or something?"

Deeks shook his head. "Remember the 'face'? The one Fraser taught us? Well, you've got to have a walk to go with it."

Too many undercover ops than he cared to remember had taught him the importance of building a new identity up – and he always started with the walk, or more particularly, with the shoes. With Max Gentry, the character had started the moment Deeks had found the motorcycle boots – heavy and uncompromising. Good for delivering a kicking with. Tonight was easy – the cowboy boots encouraged a natural swagger, so he only needed to emphasise it slightly, pull his shoulders back, jam his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans and assume an attitude.

Deeks sauntered nonchalantly up to the line outside the club and then gave the security guard a petulant look, one hip tilted slightly towards him. "You're not going to make me wait in line, are you? That would be so boring and I hate to be bored."

The guard looked him up and down and Deeks flashed him a brief and insincere smile. "Like what you see?"

"Is he with you?" A thumb was jerked at Callen, who was lounging with a sulky expression on his face.

"What do you think?"

The guy on security thought they were just what the club was looking for: fit, hot and hopefully with plenty of money. The velvet rope was lifted and they were in.

"You are way too good at this," Callen said. "Frighteningly good."

"Do I frighten you?" Deeks was living the new life, fully inhabiting his character.

"Quite frankly, you do. When you look at me like that."

"Like what?" The familiar Deeks pout was firmly in evidence, but with a subtle difference. Callen hoped he was mistaken, but it seemed awfully like Deeks was coming on to him.

"Like you want in my pants," he said bluntly.

The haughty expression faded from Deeks' face in an instant, replaced by one of complete and utter confusion. "Shit. Going in a little too deep, I guess."

"Bad choice of metaphor," Callen informed him tersely. "No, actually, you're pretty good. At acting, I mean. Nothing else." Aware that they were very much on show, he let one the fingers of one hand run slowly up Deeks' arm. "How about you and me hit the dance floor?"

"You're on." A lazy grin flitted briefly onto Deeks' face. "Prepare to have your ass whipped, Callen."

"Enough with those metaphors," Callen reminded him and then followed the swaying hips of his partner into the seething mass of humanity.

Deeks found a space and then did a congratulatory twirl, his arms extended jubilantly above his head. "Lover – look what I found!" he whooped with joy and then started to dance.

The sheer numbers of dancers meant that they were pushed towards each other, and Callen found that when he was going high, Deeks was going low. And when they were both together, they were dancing so closely that their chests kept brushing against each other.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" Deeks was wearing that distant expression again, Callen noticed – his 'face'. God, that face scared him. Deeks looked like a sulky angel with a flick knife in his back pocket and the morals of an alley cat.

"What do you reckon?" he flung back.

"I reckon you're having fun." The smile on Deeks' face was positively feral.

And he was right, Callen realised. God help him, Deeks was right. How had things come to this, so that he was out on a date with Deeks, and even worse, he was enjoying it? There was something very wrong with this picture. But Deeks could dance, no doubt about it. People were turning to look at him, as he swayed his snake-like hips, made even slinkier by the skin-tight jeans that left nothing to the imagination.

"Just you wait until tomorrow," he said in a threatening tone of voice. "When we're up there on the stage and I've got that whip."

"You say all the best things." Deeks wondered if Callen was enjoying this just a little bit too much. He didn't really seem to be in character, which was kind of worrying. A hand tapped his shoulder.

"Are you…?" The speaker looked like he was in town on business and had sneaked out for some guilty pleasures unavailable in whatever small town he came from. Probably somewhere in the Mid West, Deeks thought, judging by the accent and the open, wholesome face.

"Am I what?" he asked. "Gorgeous? Well yes. You can see that. A great dancer – honey, you know I am. Taken? Well, how about you ask him?"

Callen's arm draped itself around Deeks' shoulders. "He's mine," he said and let his fingers play idly with the curls on the nape of his neck. "And he's out of your league."

Okay, this had officially gone far enough and Deeks wanted out right now. "How about you take me somewhere more private and tell me all about it?" he invited.

"How about I do just that?" Callen's arm slipped down to encircle the younger man's waist and led him on the dance floor.

They walked out in complete silence, a silence that endured until Callen started the car engine and turned around to stare at Deeks.

"We are not talking about that, understand?"

"We're not talking about what?" Deeks had put on that innocent look – the one that did not fool Callen for a single second.

"About what happened back there." It wouldn't take much to reach across and throttle him, Callen thought. And it would be strangely fulfilling.

"Nothing happened back there. Did it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Deeks. But just don't ever talk about it again."

"Nothing happened, so how could I talk about it, even if I wanted to? Which I don't. We went in, we made an impression and then we came back out. Just like Hetty told us to do. That's all that happened. At least as far as I'm concerned." He looked at the senior agent curiously. "Why? What do you think happened?"

"Nothing. How many times do I have to tell you – nothing happened!" Callen was pretty sure his blood pressure had risen by at least five points.

"Good. Because I wouldn't want you to think I'm easy. It's going to take more than a couple of dances and some sweet talking to get me into your bed." Deeks was beginning to enjoy this. It wasn't usually this easy to get Callen worked up.

"I do not want to get you into my bed," Callen said through gritted teeth.

"You want to use my bed? Sorry, but I think my place is kind of full tonight – unless you don't mind Kensi and Louise watching."

"They're over at your place?" Suddenly the night seemed a whole lot brighter.

"They are. My bed's looking a lot better now, isn't it?"

"Will you just shut up, Deeks?"

"I could, but then I might not want to invite you up. You've got to learn to treat a boy better than this, Callen. A nice boy like me."

"You are not a nice boy." You're just a very naughty boy…

"My sister thinks I am," Deeks said smugly and then decided the joke had gone on for long enough. "Callen – don't bust a gut over it. We were in there, playing our parts. That's all it was. You know that and I know that. End of story."

"As long as you understand that. And you never talk about it again. Ever. To anyone."

"Message received. Over and out." As they drove towards his apartment, Deeks wondered idly if Callen was protesting just a little bit too much. Kensi had made more than one snide comment about the 'bromance' he had going with Sam, after all. Interesting. Very interesting indeed. However, all such idle speculation was instantly dispersed when they pulled up outside his apartment and heard the unmistakeable sound of _"Dancing Queen_" coming out of the open windows at full volume.

A smile pulled at the corners of Callen's mouth. "Curiously apt choice of music, wouldn't you say?"

Deeks pulled out his cell and punched in a number. "Louise? Turn the music down right now. I have to live here, you know."

"Come on." Callen was already striding across to the entrance. "The night is young and there are two hot women waiting upstairs for us."

"Excuse me? That's my sister you're talking about!" Deeks clocked the wolfish look on Callen's face and pelted after him. What was with the guy?

* * *

><p><em>And now we've got Protective! Louise to add into the mix. Because I reckon Deeks needs someone to look out for him. I would volunteer for the position, would volunteer in a heartbeat. Anyone got Shane Brennan's private number? The plot bunnies would have to come too - but that kind of goes without saying. I could let evil plot bunny maim hiim and then I could look after him. That's fair enough, isn't it?<em>


	20. Chapter 20

Racing up the stairs together, they engaged in a petty piece of one-upmanship, each man determined to beat the other to Deeks' apartment. Callen had got a clear lead and looked like he was going to get there first, so Deeks felt obliged to play dirty. They had just rounded the second floor landing when he let out an ear-piercing wolf-whistle.

"Jesus, Callen – if you're that desperate to get me into bed, you only needed to ask. "

Callen stopped dead in his tracks. "You need to get over yourself, Deeks."

"Are you sure you don't mean you want to get over me?" Deeks made a lewd gesture and then took advantage of the agent's momentary discomfort to sneak past him and sprint up the remaining steps. Banging the doorjamb triumphantly with his fist, Deeks swaggered in.

"What does it say about you that you need to win quite so badly?" Callen was really starting to look forward to tomorrow night, when he had that whip in his hands. Deeks wouldn't know what had hit him – literally. It was funny how you could really go off someone.

"Oh – the boys are back in town!"

There were worse things than coming home to find two women in pyjamas dancing around your living room, Deeks thought. Even if one of them was your sister. It was even better when you discovered they had been hitting the wine and were completely relaxed and feeling no pain at all.

"Wow. Flannel pyjamas." He quirked one eyebrow and gave Kensi a curious look. "Pink flannel pyjamas. With Oreos on them?" They seemed strangely familiar, even if he couldn't quite remember ever seeing them before. And Deeks knew he would definitely remember having seen Kensi modelling her bedtime garb. That wasn't something any man with a pulse would ever forget in a hurry.

"They're pandas," Kensi said happily. So she was doomed to wear these monstrosities? There were worse things in life after all – like being dead. Or Deeks being dead, instead of standing right here in front of her and looking so incredibly hot she could almost see steam coming off him. He really should wear pink more often, she thought. And he should definitely wear tight jeans all the time. Talk about a sight for sore eyes. She could stare at him until she got eyestrain and still not complain.

"Of course they are." What was more logical than that she should be wearing pink flannel pyjamas with pandas on them? "Do you and Eric go shopping for nightwear together?" While seeing Kensi in pyjamas was clearly a thing of wonder and to be savoured, Deeks was still trying to forget the time Eric had rushed to the Mission half-dressed, in response to Hetty's distress call.

"He buys his mail-order. I got mine from Louise."

"Gee, thanks for that, sis." Deeks couldn't help noticing that Louise's own PJs were of the silk and lace variety and that Callen's eyes were out on stalks. "Aren't you feeling cold? I could get you a sweater or something." Preferably something that covers you right down to your ankles.

"How about a noose to go round her neck?" Macy suggested. "First she steals my man, now she's got her claws into my best friend."

"I'm fine, Marty." Louise took a look at him and clapped her hand over her mouth. "Oh my God. Just look at you!"

"And look at Callen," he suggested. "Don't we make a cute couple?" He swayed over to where Callen was standing and draped himself around the decidedly discomfited agent.

"Callen – actually, Callen looks great." Louise let her eyes roam slowly over Callen, starting with the longer, darker, wavier hair and then down to the tight fitting shirt. "Really fine." Her eyes were firmly fixed just below the large belt buckle he was sporting and there was a self-satisfied smile on her face.

"Thanks." Callen unwound Deeks' arm and gave him a shove. "How about you tell your brother to keep his hands off me?" And then you could take over where he left off?

"Keep your hands to yourself, Marty," Louise said obediently and then broke into a smile as she looked at him again. "Oh god, you look just like you did when you were a kid." It was like getting back all the years she'd only seen in photographs.

"Dorky, you mean?"

"No, all blonde and cute and boyish." She pulled up the hem of his shirt and patted his stomach. "And hair-free into the bargain. So cute."

"You had to tell her didn't you?" Deeks scowled at Kensi and then slapped Louise's hand away.

"Come on – don't be sore. Of course she told me. It was too good not to share. And just think of it this way, if we'd been brought up together, I'd have seen a whole lot more when I was changing your diapers."

"And now you see why I never mentioned the fact I had a sister." He looked at her carefully "Exactly how much have you and Kensi had to drink tonight?"

"Enough." Louise smiled enchantingly. "And she's told me every so many things."

"And Louise told me a whole lot more." Kensi came to stand on Deeks' other side and he had the distinct impression he was out-numbered.

"I told you these things in confidence."

"Told who?"

"Both of you. But different things. At different times." It was rare to see Deeks flustered and at a loss for words, and Kensi found the whole experience was strangely wonderful.

"And know you're wondering if you told both of us the same story, aren't you?"

"Kind of."

"Put it this way – I know about the incident with the skateboard, the cheerleader and her mom," Kensi informed him. "I know the truth, not the story you spun me. I mean, what's so bad about falling off your board, cracking your head open and being taken to hospital by the hottest girl in the school?"

"Because I was unconscious and her Mom actually picked me up of the sidewalk and literally carried me into the car? And when I came round in the backseat, I threw my guts up over Sally-Anne?" Deeks suddenly remembered that he'd never mentioned that particular chapter of disasters to his sister. "I've been had, haven't I?"

"About time too." While this was all very well and fine, Callen felt that it was probably time he made a move. "And talking of time, it's getting late." He gave Louise a significant look.

"You can't go yet."

Okay, there was something very wrong about that sentence. "Yes, we can." Callen was very careful to stress the 'we' part of his response.

Louise shook her head. "No, you've got to wait for Sam."

"Sam?"

"Sam – your partner? Remember?"

"His head's too full of your delightful little brother, Louise. Poor Sam." Kensi's face was a perfect mask of tragedy.

"This is exactly why I never let any of you meet Louise," Deeks informed Callen in a mournful tone of voice. "She just kind of takes over and rearranges your whole life."

That sounded just fine to Callen. Not that he had that much in his life to organise, but Louise was welcome to it. She could do exactly what she wanted with it – and with him.

"Did I hear someone mention my name?" Sam peered cautiously in.

"I was just telling Callen you were on your way over."

"Hetty's orders. She wants you tucked up in bed and getting a good night's sleep. Both of you." Sam felt like a parent walking in on a mixed sex slumber party. "Separately. You two need your beauty sleep for your big day tomorrow."

"That doesn't make any sense." And Callen meant that most sincerely.

"I'm beautiful enough already," Deeks said smugly.

Sam decided to ignore this. He was heartily glad that his part in this operation only involved the security aspect, because the whole dancing angle seemed to have driven Callen and Deeks just a little bit mad. "She wants you in your bed and Deeks in his bed."

"Why does everyone think I want to sleep with Deeks?" Callen protested.

There was a momentary silence. Correction, thought Sam, it's turned Callen completely mad.

"I think Hetty just wants to make sure we both actually get some sleep tonight, Callen. Alone." The joke had gone far enough, Deeks decided. It was one thing messing around – but not in front of Kensi. And definitely not in front of his sister. It was weird enough that she and Callen had this whole thing going without adding unnecessary complications.

Sam nodded and decided not to ask his partner if he really did want to sleep with Deeks. It seemed easier that way, somehow. "You want a ride too, Kensi?" There was no way she was in a fit state to drive. Sam had counted three empty bottles of wine and a fourth one that was half-full.

"Or you could stay over. In my room," Louise added hastily.

"Why not?" Kensi couldn't remember the last time she'd had a sleep over.

Callen wondered how on earth things turned out so that Deeks not only got to have his own girlfriend to stay over, but Callen's into the bargain, while he was sent home alone. Meanwhile, Deeks wondered how the hell he was supposed to sleep when he knew that Kensi was in his spare room. Even if she was wearing the most peculiar pair of PJs he'd ever clapped eyes on. And Sam just tried very hard not to think about Louise and Kensi sharing a bed. He was not altogether successful in this endeavour. It took another ten minutes before Callen could be persuaded to leave, and even then Sam had to practically drag him out. Well, if Sam couldn't stay and join in the fun, he didn't see why his partner should.

"You girls seemed to have fun," Deeks said, somewhat lamely. This evening wasn't quite working out the way he'd hoped.

"Speak for yourself," Macy said bitterly. The evening had been a complete disaster as far as she was concerned.

"We had a great evening. How was yours?"

Deeks considered this carefully. "Interesting." That one word covered a multitude of sins. "The club was kind of fun," he added.

"I knew it!" Kensi flashed him a smile. "You found out just how powerful dancing can be, didn't you?" The thought of Deeks, in those jeans, shaking his pert little butt certainly worked for her.

Deeks thought back to those exercises Kensi had made them do, and how taut her inner thighs must be and just nodded weakly.

"So – are you ready for the big reveal tomorrow?" Kensi kept thinking about that wax job and wondering exactly how much the beautician had taken off. Surely not everything?

"Kind of." Considering he hadn't even seen the costume Hetty was going to pour him into, Deeks thought it best to hedge his bets on that one.

"It'll be fun," Kensi assured him. Fun for the spectators, at any rate. Hetty had shown her the golden shorts and Kensi wondered if she had a shoe horn ready and waiting to squeeze Deeks into them.

"Yeah." About as much fun as a root canal without novocaine. "We did see something interesting though." With all the teasing, and the small matter that Kensi was sitting next to him, and wearing only a pair of pyjamas, he'd almost forgotten. "That guy from the gallery? The one who works on the inventories?"

"Jacob? Midde-aged, monobrow – kind of neandrathal looking?" It wasn't hard to see why Aubrey kept him out of sight of the customers – sorry, clients.

"That's him. He was there. And he couldn't take his eyes off me. Or should I say Dave?"

"Now isn't that interesting." Kensi leant back and punched him gently on the arm. "It looks like things are really starting to hear up, doesn't it?"

"Uh huh." If he got much hotter, Deeks thought he might just explode.

"And I think I'll get off to bed." Louise was feeling her presence was definitely not required.

"Sure. Whatever." Deeks waited until he heard the door close. "Well. Here we are." And he felt like a gawky kid again, on his very first date.

"Here we are." Kensi shuffled her bare feet and stared at the bright pink nail polish Louise had applied.

"Just you and me." Oh - and my sister about ten yards away. How could I possibly forget that, Deeks thought.

"Are you nervous?"

Hell, yes he was nervous. "Why would I be nervous?"

"About performing."

"Exactly what did Louise tell you?" Deeks was going to kill his sister. "About my performance issues?"

"I meant performing with Lady Gaga, you idiot." Kensi kicked him gently on the ankle. "Unless you've got something to tell me?"

Apart from the fact that all he could think about was peeling these ridiculous pyjamas off her? "I do kind of have a favour to ask you."

"Ask away." Sitting here, so close to him that their thighs were touching, it was just about all Kensi could do not to throw herself onto her partner. And she really wanted to see the full evidence of that wax job, because the speculation was just about killing her.

"You couldn't pull my boots off could you?" And then, God help him, Deeks was going to wend his lonely way to his room. Unless Kensi persuaded him otherwise.

"Why don't you two just get a room and get it over with?" Macy snapped and then stormed out. It was really rather disconcerting the way she could just disappear through a wall, Kensi thought.

"Your boots?" she asked. They were finally alone and all he could think of was to get her to take his boots off?

"They're kind of tight."

"So are your jeans – but I'm betting you'll manage just fine with those." Kensi stalked off to the spare room in highest dudgeon. What was it with men?

"He's hopeless, isn't he?" Louise whispered.

"Completely. I've never met such an annoying man in my whole life." Kensi sank down onto the bed and put her head into the hands, running her hands through her hair until it stood out wildly.

"You're just going to have to show him the error of his ways then aren't you?"

"Me? Show Deeks?"

"Why not? Didn't you do show and tell when you were in junior school? It's ever so much more exciting when you're grown up."


	21. Chapter 21

"I've changed my mind." Macy appeared in the corner of the room, in her normal, but highly disconcerting, way. "I like this woman. I like the way she things. I just don't like the way she run her hands over my man, that's all."

"Let me get this right, Louise." They had drunk rather a lot over the course of the evening, after all. "You are telling me to go back out there and seduce your brother?" Actually, now she said it outloud, Kensi was beginning to think it wasn't such a bad idea. The more she thought about it, the better it sounded.

"Why not?"

"Supposing he says 'no'?"

"Supposing he doesn't? This is Marty, after all." Louise propped herself up on her elbows. "Kensi – are you blind or just plain dumb? What more does he have to do – hire the big screen at the Staples Centre or something?"

"It's that obvious?"

"Believe me, it's that obvious." And Louise was not just talking about her brother. She had a shrewd suspicion Kensi wasn't either.

"We do kind of have a 'thing'," Kensi admitted.

"Which roughly translates as unrequited lust." Macy kicked Kensi in the shin. Really, you wouldn't think a dead woman could kick like a mule, but she could. "Go out there and do your thing. But put on something less off-putting first. The only reason Deeks would want to tear your clothes off right now if because they make him nauseous."

Louise looked singularly smug, which only increased her resemblance to her brother. "So what are you waiting for? You show him what he's been missing. But you might want to change first."

"I actually kind of like these PJs," Kensi confessed. They did seem to be playing rather a prominent role in her life. However, given how good Deeks was looking right now, maybe she ought to even up the score a little? Just to make sure he didn't turn her down.

* * *

><p>Deeks had poured himself a large glass of wine and was standing draped over his balcony railing, staring out towards the ocean, when he felt something caressing his butt. It took a couple of seconds for him to remember that he'd put his cell phone onto vibrate, and quite a bit longer to manage to extricate it from the tight denim. The screen display showed he'd got a text message.<p>

_Are you in bed?_

Jeez, didn't Callen know when to let well enough alone? Deeks stared at the screen in disbelief, which changed to incredulity when he realised exactly who had texted him. Hetty? What was it with tonight and all the team wanting to get him in to bed? He'd better play this one very carefully.

_Why do u ask?_

_You do know what they say about great athletes, don't you, Mr Deeks?_

Who else but Hetty would use perfect grammar and punctuation in a text?

_They get gr8 wages? _Deeks couldn't help smiling at that response.Well, it was worth a shot, wasn't it?

_Cheeky. Save yourself. There will be a time and a place – after New Year. I do hope I make myself clear._

_Loud + clear._

"Bugger you, Hetty Lang."

Deeks was very tempted to throw his cell out of the window, only that would be deducted from his miniscule wages. Wasn't it enough that Hetty had made him impersonate an Aryan thug; subjected him to a week of dance lessons; bleached his hair and then removed most of his body hair? And then made him go out on a 'date' with Callen? Hadn't he suffered enough? And now she had to harass him on the few hours of down time he managed to grab. Where did she get off, telling him not to have sex tonight? Not that there was any chance of that. Trust Hetty to have to remind him what a disaster his love life was.

He knocked back the wine and was just about to refill his glass, when there was a familiar sensation, almost patting his ass this time. That bloody woman.

"Can't you just leave me alone?"

"Sorry." Kensi hastily removed her hand. The sight of those tight buns had just been too much to resist.

"I didn't mean you." Deeks whirled around and saw Kensi standing behind him. "I thought you were Hetty."

Kensi decided this was not the time or the place to ask exactly why he thought that. It seemed unlikely that Deeks could physically confuse the two of them, for although they both had dark brown hair, the slight difference in both height and age made that kind of improbable. And it was even more improbably that Deeks would invite Hetty over for a midnight chat. Mind you, anything was possible, as far as Deeks was concerned. You just never knew what he was going to do or say, and that was kind of exciting.

"You said wanted a hand with your boots?" she said sweetly.

Thank the Lord. Deeks had been starting to think that he might have to sleep in them. "They're kind of tight."

"Really?" Kensi's eyes were most definitely not looking at his boots. In fact, her eyes were fixed on a point about three feet higher. "Pinching you in all the wrong places, are they? Well, we'd better do something about that. In fact, I'd say we'd better get them off as soon as possible."

"Okay." Deeks looked rather shell-shocked as he said this, and Kensi felt an agreeable feeling of power ripple through her. It was about time she took the upper hand in this… thing. Deeks wasn't the only one who could make sexual innuendos after all.

"Go sit down." She pointed imperiously to the couch and he obeyed without saying a word, which was definitely not like Deeks at all. Oh, the power, the power. A girl could get used to this. Kensi found that she was really beginning to enjoy herself now.

"Okay – give me your foot." She crooked her little finger.

Wordlessly, Deeks meekly extended one leg and then took a deep breath as Kensi turned around and put his foot between her thighs.

"Hold on now."

Oh, he was holding on, alright. Deeks was holding on to the edges of his sanity. The sight of Kensi's delicious ass, just inches from his face, wriggling temptingly as she eased his boot off, was almost more than he could take. It was like a ripe peach – if peaches wore tight jeans. All he would have to do was just bend forward a little bit and he could take a bite of the sweetest ass in LA… And how come she was wearing jeans all of a sudden?

"There! That's better, isn't it?" Kensi turned around with a bright smile and Deeks couldn't help noticing that she was wearing a very low cut blouse as well. Which was strange, because he could have sworn she'd been wearing PJs earlier on. The most peculiar PJs too, more like something Nell would have. Not that he thought of Nell in a state of undress. Not that often.

"Oh yes. That's much better," he agreed.

"How about we do that all over again?" Kensi turned around again and bent over slightly.

"That works for me." After all, people paid good money for this sort of view. When the second boot finally came off, after much wiggling and clenching of his leg between thighs that were even firmer and tauter than Deeks had dreamt of, he exhaled loudly.

"That's better, isn't it?"

Not really, because now he was aching in other places. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. How are your feet?"

"Kind of sore."

"How about I take care of that?"

Deeks didn't have the opportunity to say anything, which was probably just as well, because the next thing he knew, Kensi was sitting on the opposite end of the couch and she'd swung his feet up into her lap.

"There's nothing like a good massage, is there?"

Well, that depended. Like who was giving said massage and exactly where they were massaging. But this was actually pretty damned good, Deeks realised and started to relax. Only it wasn't easy, given that his right foot was resting right up against Kensi's crotch and her hands were doing the most incredible things to his left. Why had he never realised that feet could be erogenous zones before?

"This is pretty great." He looked up and smiled. "You're pretty great."

"You're not so bad yourself, Deeks." She put down his foot, so that it lay in her lap. "About last night…"

"We kissed." Deeks sat up and edged forward just a little bit.

"We did, didn't we?" Kensi could feel a smile tugging at her lips. "And I can't stop thinking about it."

"We could kiss again – only I wouldn't want to hurt you."

That had been some punch she'd taken in the face after all, even if there was almost no damage to be seen now, other than slightly puffy lips, that just made her look even more inviting than normal. And Deeks knew exactly how inviting Kensi's lips were, having spent hours staring at them and imagining how they would feel when he kissed them. And now he finally knew. That was the kicker – because kissing Kensi was so much better than any dream or even fantasy.

"How about you kiss me better?"

"I could do that." Deeks leant forward, so that their faces were almost touching. "I could kiss you better." It was the softest, most gentle kiss imaginable, like butterfly wings flitting across her lips.

"That's a good start." Kensi scooted forward so that they were only inches apart, and their legs wrapped around one another instinctively, drawing them together; linking them together. She reached out and ran her hand down the side of his face. "I could get used to this."

"The clean shaven look?" If it meant that much to her, Deeks would shave every morning. Well, make that every second morning.

"No – just being close to you." She was so tired of pretending and so very tired of being alone. Why had she pushed him away for so long?

"Me too." Deeks ran his hand slowly down her back and watched as Kensi responded to his touch, arching her back, tilting her head and half closing her eyes like some exotic cat. The movement left her neck exposed and he darted a series of kisses, starting at the edge of her jaw and continuing down to her collar bone.

"Don't stop." Kensi found that she was clinging on to him, and that her legs were wrapped around his waist, trying to pull him even closer.

"Stop? I haven't started yet." Deeks loved the feeling of her arms around him, loved the way her hair fell forward when they moved together, loved the intoxicating scent that seemed to surround her. He kissed her again, and this time it was neither soft nor gentle.

Kensi responded with a ferocity that stunned him, increasing the pressure of the kiss, her tongue darting into his mouth with a flickering fire that seemed to ignite his senses into an inferno. Her hands slipped underneath his shirt and caressed the smooth skin of his back, edging down each individual vertebrae and then could not repress the groan of pleasure burst forward at the sheer joy of the moment.

"Did I hurt you?" Deeks jerked back, took her face between both of his hands and looked at her carefully.

"Hurt me? No, you didn't hurt me. I'm fine. And so are you." Kensi cupped his chin and kissed him again, just because she could and then let her fingers tangle in his hair. "And you really do look good blond."

"I always was blond," he protested. "I'm naturally blond."

"Pity you can't prove it anymore."

"You want a bet?" There was a light in his eyes that was awfully familiar. It usually meant trouble – only this time, Kensi was going to be leading him right there. She would be with him every inch of the way.

"But Hetty said… I mean, she was most insistent." Kensi looked at him carefully. "She told Melanie to give you both a full body wax. And she meant FULL."

"I can be very persuasive. Very, very persuasive."

"You mean… Really?" Surely this was Deeks spinning her a tale?

"Really." Did Kensi honestly think he was going to let some teen make him look like a prepubescent kid all over again?

Kensi had the sneaking suspicion that Deeks was telling her the truth, but she was going to have to find out for herself. "Callen is going to be so mad with you."

"Is it my problem if Callen's dumb enough to always do what Hetty says?" Deeks could feel Kensi's hand trying to slip inside the waistband of his jeans. "No way."

"This is not the time to get coy with me." Not when her blood was running high like this.

Deeks gave a start. "No, I just meant that these jeans are too tight. That's all."

Sure enough, she could barely even get her finger tips inside. There was only one thing for it then. Kensi reached out and grabbed the hem of his t-shirt. "Reach for the sky." Once it was off, she tossed it over the back of the couch and then surveyed his bare chest and equally smooth armpits. "That's pretty conclusive."

"You ain't seen nothing yet." There it was, that big grin was back on Deeks' face, like he thought she was about to rip off all his clothes. And guess what? Kensi was about to prove him right.

"Oh, I do hope so." It was easy to uncurl her legs, and then push Deeks back, so that he was lying flat out on the sofa, as she knelt over him. "I really do hope so. Because if I find out you've been boasting…" I'm going to be so frustrated it's not true.

"Are you seducing me, Ms Blye?" he asked. "Because Hetty is going to be so mad with you. I don't fancy your chances if she finds out."

"I'm not going to say a word." Reaching down, Kensi unfastened the snap of his jeans and let her hand linger on the zipper. "And I'm not seducing you. I'm ravishing you."

"Be gentle with me." He batted those eyelashes at her and Kensi just had to kiss him again.

"Not a chance."

* * *

><p><em>And randy plot bunny is back!<em>


	22. Chapter 22

Okay, randy plot bunny has entered the building.  
>In other words, this chapter contains adult material. You have been warned.<p>

* * *

><p>"How on earth did you get into these jeans?" Kensi was starting to laugh now as she struggled to remove them and Deeks noticed how her breasts jiggled up and down, staring with such transfixed joy that he could feel his eyes starting to cross over.<p>

"With great difficulty." For a moment Deeks had almost conceded defeat and only the humiliating prospect of Hetty actually barging in and personally forcing him into the jeans had made him persevere. And now he was beginning to wonder how he would manage to get them off. If it had been tricky getting them on, then getting them off again was going to be well-nigh impossible. Bugger Hetty Lang and her great ideas. Deeks was beginning to realise why Scotsmen wore kilts: nothing to distract you, easy access for all number of purposes, and the added advantage of only taking seconds to discard. Yup, a kilt looked awfully good right now.

"Put on baby oil next time."

"Fraser said no oil. He was most insistent. Said I had to look young and innocent."

"Young, maybe. Innocent – no way. Not when you're lying there looking at me like that." There was a world of wickedness and a universe of intent in those eyes. And oil would definitely work for her, Kensi thought. But then she wasn't a guy, far less a gay guy. "Okay, do you want to lift up your hips for me?"

"Do you say that to all the guys?" This was kind of different, but the combination of the smile on her and the look in her eyes made it an invitation he could not resist. Deeks obeyed and Kensi managed to pull the jeans off. It was a bit of a struggle, but when you are determined, nothing is impossible. And she had her eyes on the prize.

"That's cheating!" It wasn't that she was disappointed – not quite. It just wasn't what she was expecting, so Kensi decided to take a leaf out of his book and pouted.

How was it possible for her to look any hotter? That pouty bottom lip was certainly working its charm on him, but Deeks was resolute and kept a firm grip on the elastic waistband of his underpants. "I'm preserving my modesty," he said weakly. Because for some reason, he just wasn't cool with the idea of being as naked as a jaybird while Kensi was fully clothed.

"Modest? You?" This had to be a first.

"Maybe I'm turning over a new leaf?"

"Maybe you should start tomorrow? You could make it your New Year's resolution?" Kensi took a long, appraising look. Now, this was very interesting, because despite his earlier protestations, there was not a hair in sight. There was plenty else to look at though, in the form of those figure-hugging, barely-there briefs. "Any way, I thought you wore boxers?"

"Did you? That's interesting. What else did you think?" Kensi was actually admitting she thought about him? And more than that – thought about him undressed – well, semi-undressed at least. That had to mean something, didn't it? And Deeks found this gave him an absurdly warm glow.

"Idiot." How come they were messing around like this and yet she was finding it the most exciting experience of her life? Verbal foreplay was more erotic than Kensi had ever given it credit for. "But you wore boxers before."

"Ah – that time at the prison? I thought I saw you checking me out." She had definitely been checking him out – no doubt about it. Deeks had noticed the glimmer in her eye and thought he was seeing the same one right now.

"Come on - it was cold. There wasn't a whole lot to look at." Apart from the bod from God. Kensi had been very tempted to hold onto his clothes and leave Deeks standing there in his shorts for quite a while longer.

"It's not cold now." Deeks was almost sure Kensi had raised his body temperature by several degrees. And there was no way of hiding how turned on he was right now.

"I can see that." Kensi smirked. There was simply no other word for it. She smirked and then she looked at Deeks again, lounging there on the sofa and wearing only a pair of tight fitting black briefs. And now she knew why they were called 'briefs' – because they were. Very brief indeed. And they were showcasing all his natural assets.

It was definitely not cold now and there was certainly a lot to look at: an awful lot to look at. Quite an eyeful in fact. One might say Deeks was sight for sore eyes, Kensi thought. Or even that he looked eye-wateringly good. Whatever. Whatever he was and whatever this was, one thing was certain: she wanted him. She wanted him more than she'd ever wanted any man in her entire life. And, judging from the evidence before her, Deeks felt exactly the same way. Enough was enough. There was a time for everything, and this was definitely the time for action. Kensi put the flat of her hand on his chest, so that she could feel the thud of his heart, along with the pounding sound of her own blood rushing through her body. She had never felt so alive.

"And I've got you right where I want you, Marty."

He blinked. "Say that again." Kensi kept wrong-footing him, like she'd taken control and they were playing according to her rules. It was disconcerting, but it was also fun. Deeks was used to being in control of situations like this, of dictating the pace and this felt dangerous and unpredictable. It also felt as exciting as hell.

"I've got you right where I want you."

"Not that. Say my name again." Because it sounded so amazing, hearing her say it at all, far less with that low growl in her voice. Did Kensi have any idea what she did to a man when she spoke like that.

"Marty" Kensi said it as slowly as possible, savouring each individual syllable, rolling the sounds around inside her mouth and nothing had ever sounded quite as erotic. "Marty, Marty, Marty."

"That's working for me." Apart from the fact it had almost put his spine out of place.

"It's working for me too." Bending over him, so that her hair fell forward in two long, fragrant curtains, Kensi placed her hands on either side of his head. "Marty." This time, she punctuated it with a kiss and Deeks reached up and pulled her down so that she was lying along the length of his body.

"You have great hair." He let the heavy silken lengths fall through his fingers and then coiled it around his hand and piled it on top of her head, while his other hand roved down towards her bra strap.

"Uh uh."

"What?"

"Front fastening."

Oh. So that was okay then. For one moment Deeks thought this was all going to end horribly, like so many things in his life had a nasty habit of doing. But front-fastening bras were good. In fact they were great, because you could even undo them with your teeth, if you'd had enough practice. He reached up, but Kensi was there first, her fingers almost tearing the buttons off that blouse in her haste to get it off.

"I could have done that." But it was okay, because that was possibly the sexiest bra he'd ever seen. Or was it just that she had the best breasts he'd ever seen? And he hadn't even seen all of them yet.

"Next time." Kensi's voice was noticeably hoarse. "I promise. You can do it next time."

"Okay."

He let one fingertip trace the curve of her breast, while the other hand traced a lazy arc just along her ribs and Kensi felt a shiver of anticipation run straight down her spine and then flash into her centre. She closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip as Deeks continued his exploration of her body, his hands caressing her ass.

"You are still wearing far too many clothes. How about we do something about that?"

Kensi just nodded, mainly because Deeks was already unfastening her jeans. Damn, why wasn't there an elegant, sexy way to remove tight denim?

"How about I stand up?"

It didn't sound like her voice, she thought. It sounded thin, and almost pale, with a definite tremble in it, not unlike the way her knees felt right now. In fact, Kensi knew that her whole body was shaking with anticipation.

"Good idea." Deeks sat on the edge of the sofa and began to ease the fabric down over her hips, letting his fingers brush against the soft skin of her stomach. Holding onto his shoulder, Kensi managed to step out of jeans.

"That's better." Things seemed a little more equitable now that they were both in a similar state of undress. Only it had to be said that Kensi's underwear was skimpy in the extreme – mere wisps of fabric and lace. Deeks hooked his finger into the thin strap of her panties. "Come here, gorgeous."

Because she was so utterly gorgeous – tall and tanned, slim and inviting, toned and yet with a beckoning softness that was impossible to resist. And the way she looked , standing there looking at him so solemnly and yet with a tiger-fire burning her eyes made a flame of molten fire lick at his bones. Standing up, Deeks held out his arms and Kensi smiled as she took one step forward, closing the gap between them, crossing the final bridge and knowing that there was no going back. She was finally throwing away her resistance, burning her bridges and burning them in style, with the biggest conflagration since Troy was set aflame.

Their bodies fitted together so perfectly that it was almost as they had been made for one another, as if this was predestined and written in the stars. This time, when they kissed there was more urgency, and all the pent-up passion was released. Kensi found that she was literally clinging on to Deeks and pressing herself against him, feeling his urgency and responding in kind.

"Come on." Deeks managed to pull himself out of the kiss for just long enough to nod to the bedroom. He let his hand slip from Kensi's waist down to her ass and was stunned to find himself touching warm, silken flesh, rather than the whisper of satin panties. "Wow. A thong?"

"A thong," Kensi confirmed, loving the way his hand had twitched slightly at the revelation.

"I never knew you wore thongs."

"You'd never have been able to concentrate on your work if you'd known that."

"True." Oh God, she was doing things to his head as well as to his body. "You wear thongs. Wow."

"I think you said that already." Kensi let herself sink down onto the bed. "And actually, I only wear one at a time."

"Pretty soon you won't be wearing one at all."

"Is that a fact?"

"Oh yes." Deeks was nuzzling her breasts now, dotting them with tiny kisses and Kensi found herself responding instinctively. When he reached up and unfastened her bra, so that his hands could finally touch her directly, Kensi discovered that this was even sweeter, and she wondered how she had lived so long without knowing what it was like to have Deeks' fingers caress her. The world was doing peculiar things, it was slowling right down, so that time almost ceased to be and each moment, each tender touch seemed to last for an eternity, and then it was speeding up, spinning so fast that she felt quite giddy and unable to think straight.

Kensi felt like heaven made real and tangible, created anew in warm, pliant flesh, Deeks thought. And her skin tasted so sweet. His tongue described a tight circle around the aureole of her nipple and it tightened immediately in response, even as she gave a low moan of pleasure. His thumb and forefinger moved to tease the other nipple, while he started to suck slowly and gently, feeling her arousal grow as the small buds became harder under his touches.

"You make loving fun." Kensi spoke without thinking and then blinked in astonishment, not quite sure where that had come from. She watched as Deeks raised his head slowly, and gave her a stunned smile.

"You make me want you so much." This time, one finger ran straight down her torso, travelling between her breasts, which ached again for his touch, and then scything a path down her stomach, each tiny muscle trembling as they passed by. Involuntarily, Kensi found that she was raising herself up, tilting her pelvis towards him temptingly, needing him to touch her there, to touch the core of her being that was crying out for his love. Nothing else mattered except that he needed to touch her there, and touch her now.

"Shhh. It's alright. We've got forever." Deeks was kissing her again, his hand was cupping her and Kensi was pressing herself frantically against his touch, unconscious of the urgent cry she had uttered.

"I need you now." Her hand was toying with the waistband of his briefs and then Kensi could bear it no longer and was pushing them down and out of the way, desperate to capture him and let him know how much she wanted him, how much she needed them.

"You've got me. You always had me, Kensi. Right from the very first minute we met." Deeks found himself helping her to discard the briefs and then nearly screamed when she finally took hold of him, one hand holding gently and exploring, while the fingers of the other curved around him and a look of wondrous realisation slipped onto her face. As she explored him, Kensi realised there were still a few curls left, and her fingers tangled in them briefly, tickling slightly as she almost imperceptibly tightened her hold of him, and Deeks had to squeeze his eyes shut, clench his butt and concentrate very hard on not making a complete fool of himself. He was hard and throbbing and Kensi had this smiling look of pure astonishment and delight on her face that was almost better than the feel of her holding him literally in the palm of her hand.

Finally wrenching back some semblance of control, Deeks reached out blindly and slipped the thong down before stroking the softness of her inner thigh and watching in amazement as Kensi opened up to him like some incredible flower, revealing all her secrets as she writhed beneath his touch. The feel of her was incredible: delicate, tantalising and so moist and inviting and the sound of her ragged breathing in his ear as he focused on her desire and started to take her up towards a crescendo sounded amazing.

"Now, Marty. Please? I need you now."

His fingers were slipping inside her, she was gripping onto them and staring into his eyes. And then finally Deeks discovered that he was lying between her legs and Kensi was guiding him towards her.

"You've got me." Deeks hesitated for just a second, moved his arms so that they were on either side of her shoulders and then eased himself forward, moving with infinitesimal slowness, letting Kensi become accustomed to him. Hearing her exhale in surprise as he entered her nearly made him lose all his control again, and the tightness of her grip around him was threatening to blow his mind apart.

"I've got you. I've everything I ever wanted." They were lying still now, staying entirely motionless for just a second, exchanging glances and then kissing more deeply than ever before as Deeks started to move. Without thinking, Kensi brought her legs up in one smooth action, wrapping them around his waist so that she could move more easily with him, while at the same time capturing him and drawing him in even deeper. Their bodies moved instinctively as all rational thought flew away and the rhythm and sensations became all that mattered. This was what heaven felt like, Kensi thought, just before her mind exploded and crystallised in a rainbow-hued shower of sparks that flashed behind her eyes and as her body reacted in a series of compelling judders, Deeks finally let himself go. At the last moment, his head tilted back and he yelled out his joy to the night.

Afterwards, they lay together for a long time, not saying a word, lying together in companiable silence, with their arms describing a perfect circle of unbroken love as the stars looked on in wonder and the moon raced across the sky towards dawn.

* * *

><p><em>Gosh - fireworks already and we've still got New Year's Eve to come. <em>


	23. Chapter 23

Macy sat and stared out of the window, looking without seeing the dark velvet beauty of the night, istening to the muffled sounds of the ocean, and Louise's soft, regular breathing. She deliberately thought of these two things, in order to prevent any possibility of hearing Kensi and Deeks. Some things were meant to be shared between two people, and two people only.

"But you're a long time dead," she whispered. "Such a very long time dead." She had almost forgotten what it was to be alive, to suffer the pains and joys that came with life and she had wanted to forget how very much love hurt. Love was such a contrast of extremes: either you were riding high, or you were plunging into the depth of despair. Right now, it was difficult to imagine feeling any worse. Above all, she was just so lonely. When you loved and were loved back, you were never alone, but death meant the end of all these ties, so that love became only a memory. Macy could not decide if it would be better to forget the joy of loving Callen, so that she no longer felt the pain of not being able to love him anymore or if she should just try to bear the agony of watching him fall in love with someone else.

Sensing her distress, Monty got up and pressed his cold, damp nose consolingly into the palm of her hand. It was a simple gesture, but it was the first time for so very long that any living creature had tried to comfort Macy that tears sprang up unbidden. "You might not look like much, but your heart is in the right place, isn't it?"

Monty sat down beside her, with an expectant look on his homely face, and thumped his tail on the ground. No amount of grooming would ever make the rough, unkempt-looking fur appear anything other than dishevelled, or alter the comical appearance of the dog, but it was easy to sense a fellow-soul just looking for love shining out from his bright eyes. And Deeks loved him. Deeks saw past the exterior and sensed an animal whom others might deride, but who was just as worthy of being loved as any living creature. Even Monty was loved – and he returned that love.

"He'll be back," Macy said in an undertone and watched as Monty's ears pricked up. "Your Daddy will be back – I promise." He seemed content with that, and settled down again, resting his head on his paws. She didn't bother wondering why the dog could see and hear her, having learned that on occasions there was no rhyme or reason, no possible logic at all, but rather that things simply were. It was easier just to accept, rather than to question, to go with the flow and roll with the punches . Macy could not help reflecting that if only she had applied that same philosophy to her private life, then she might still be alive. Alive, and with Callen.

"I miss you, Callen. I miss us." Oh, to feel his arms around her for just one last time. To be able to give him a final kiss. Just to be able to tell him 'goodbye' and that she would always love him.

Although she knew that Louise could not hear her words, it was still disconcerting to see how she gave a soft moan and moved restlessly in her sleep when the name 'Callen' was uttered. It was probably just co-incidence, but then again, there were more things in both heaven and earth than Macy had ever dreamt of. But there was one thing she had never stopped dreaming about – or rather, one person: Callen. He inhabited her thoughts, just as he always had. And now he was leaving her. He was finally ready to let go of that tortured, convoluted past and make his own future, instead of avoiding it. And that was great, it was what he should have done years ago. Macy wondered why he had not done it with her, and then pushed the thought aside. That was the past and could not be rewritten. What once had been was now just a memory and the future was beckoning, leading Callen to a new life – one where he could finally find fulfilment. She wanted him to be happy, after all.

"You look after him, do you hear me?" Macy stared hard at Louise. "You look after him and you love him with all your heart, because he deserves that." Finally, she knew what love was: it was about letting go, watching the man you adored find new love and happiness with someone else and rejoicing in the fact that his life was now complete, while at the same time your heart broke with loneliness.

"You've got the right idea, Monty." Macy sank down onto the floor and put her arms around the dog, burying her face in his fur. "Next time, I'm coming back as a dog. Callen's dog." Life would be so much simpler that way. "I'm not jealous, really I'm not."

It was safe to say that to Monty, because she knew the dog was not going to contradict her. Instead, he merely licked her hand consolingly and then rolled over onto his back, inviting her to rub his stomach. "We all want someone to love us, don't we?" Even a dumb dog knew that. And Callen had loved her – in his own way. Macy knew that she had to hang on to that thought. It was just that he had moved on, and she had not. Life was complicated, that was a given. But nobody had thought to tell Macy that death would be equally torturous.

* * *

><p>"Are you decent?" Louise knocked loudly on the door, and Monty added in a couple of barks just for good measure.<p>

"I'm awake – will that do?" Deeks stretched lazily and then looked down at Kensi, who was lying with her head cradled on his shoulder and her eyes firmly closed. "That would be our early morning alarm call."

"I'm not awake." If she wasn't awake then she didn't have to get up and end everything. Kensi let her fingers drift softly over his chest and then further down. A smile crept over her face. "You are incorrigible."

Well, that was one way of putting it. "What can I say? I'm a guy in bed with a hot girl. A hot, sound asleep girl." He shifted slightly, so that he could put both arms around her.

"Maybe you could be my Prince Charming and wake me up with a kiss?"

"You have the best ideas." Except when they were out on an op, and Kensi was suggesting that he make himself a deliberate target so that she could sneak up on the perpetrators. That really wasn't quite so great.

Kissing first thing in the morning, in the warm rumpled sheets of a hectic night, had a lot going for it. Sweet slowness, savouring the reconnection, the growing knowledge of the other person's reactions, the way their body curved into your own and opened up all its secrets. Kisses that went on forever, so that you got lost in them, following the lazy path down to succulent surrender as the lemon hue of an early morning in December flooded into the room and the scent of the sea began to fill the air.

"About last night," Kensi said huskily.

"What about it?"

"It was wonderful."

For one heart-stopping moment, Deeks had thought she was going to tell him that it had all been a big mistake and that they should forget it had ever happened. Life seemed to burst into new colour and vibrancy. "It was wonderful," he agreed and then kissed her again.

"Marty? You've got a message from Hetty on your phone." Louise knocked rather more loudly this time.

Deeks sat bolt upright in bed. Shit, he'd forgotten Louise was still outside the door. No doubt hovering right outside, with a soppy grin on her face and her ears flapping wildly. "You're kind of killing the moment here, sis." Hopefully she would take the hint and go take Monty for a very long walk.

"It's okay - she says you don't need to come in until eleven." Louise wasn't averse to reading the odd text or two.

"Both of us?" Things were starting to look better. God bless Hetty. A wonderful woman, with a heart of pure gold.

"She doesn't know I'm here." Kensi also sat up, with a look of horror on her face. The last thing she wanted was for the whole team to find out about this.

"There might be a message on your phone too?" Stranger things had happened, after all. And that would mean they could come back to bed and then who knew what might happen?

"Could be." Kensi grabbed the sheet and wrapped it around herself. "There's only one way to find out."

"Good morning!" Louise looked very chipper, but then she'd had the benefit of a full night's sleep and several cups of coffee this morning.

"Mmm. I'll take a rain check on that until I'm actually awake." Kensi couldn't help noticing that Louise had folded all their clothes neatly and put them into two piles, sitting side by side on the sofa: his and hers. Obviously being a neat freak was encoded in the Brandel/Deeks genes. "Damn." There were no messages on her phone from Hetty. Damn the woman. Didn't she know that some people actually had lives outside NCIS? Or tried to have lives at any rate.

"What time do you have to be in work?"

"Nine," Kensi said shortly. "And it's well after seven already." She would be able to make it in on time, but only if she hurried.

"Even on the weekend? On New Year's Eve?" Louise shook her head. "That woman is a slave-driver."

"We've got an op running – that takes priority over everything else." Kensi looked at the clock again. "I'm going to have to get going."

"So how about you jump under the shower while Louise gets breakfast ready?" Deeks was standing in the bedroom doorway, wearing only a pair of boxers and rubbing his chest.

Given the choice, Kensi would much rather have jumped on him, however that wasn't really an option, so she flashed a quick smile of thanks.

"Do I look like a short-order cook?" Louise asked drily and then regarded her brother with an expectant look on her face.

"No – you look like someone who's dying to know what went on last night. Aren't you going to ask? You know you want to."

"No need, Marty. One look at your face tells me everything I need to know." Louise rubbed his arm. "I haven't seen you look so happy in years, kid." And isn't it a good thing your big sister came to stay and provided the catalyst that finally got you two into bed together? NO wonder you looked worn out when I arrived – too much sexual tension isn't good for you.

"I'm going to be a whole lot happier in a minute."

Giving her a quick peck on the cheek, Deeks ambled towards the bathroom, where the sound of his power shower could already be heard, leaving Louise looking confused. It was only when she heard the bedroom door shut very firmly, that she realised what he had in mind. It looked like Kensi might not make it into work bang on 9am after all. Not unless she drove like a maniac.

Deeks knew that the high powered shower jets would make it impossible for Kensi to hear his approach. Opening the bathroom door stealthily, he could see that the clear walls of the shower cubicle were already fogging over with steam, but it was still possible to make out the blurry figure of Kensi with her back to him, arms above her head as she massaged shampoo into her hair. Moving as quietly as possibly, Deeks eased the shower doors open and slipped in behind her.

"Oh my God!"

Judging from the way Kensi nearly leapt her own height in the air, she had most definitely not heard Deeks coming into the bathroom, far less realised he was joining her in the shower. Her first awareness was when he reached around and covered her breasts with his hands, and then followed up by pressing his body against hers and her shriek was ear piercing.

"Miss me?" Kissing her neck, Deeks tasted shampoo.

"Terribly. You shouldn't have left me like that, Callen. We're going to have to be quiet, as Deeks doesn't suspect a thing." Kensi found herself leaning back against him and sighing as his hand moved smoothly down over her belly.

"I didn't want Deeks to suspect our thing." Deeks let his hand slide a little further down and sighed.

"Deeks? He's oblivious." Kensi eased herself around to face him. "Oblivious but gorgeous." Kissing him was something she would never get tired of. Along with the way his hands were roaming all over her body and teasing her into readiness with just a flicker of his fingers.

"Don't forget that he's a great mover." He lifted her up, so that her legs were wrapped around his waist and her moist, slippery body was sliding up and down in the most alluring way.

"Strong too." She eased herself into position with a languid moan and gripped on tightly. This was crazy, completely mad and possibly the best thing she'd ever done in her life. Having a shower would never be quite the same again.

This wasn't like last night: this was frantic and urgent, almost desperate, as the water fell down in sheets around them. Kensi found her back pressed against the wall, as she clung onto him, experiencing the wildest ride of her life, their mouths searching desperately as Deeks drove into her so hard and fast that she found herself climaxing within moments

Afterwards, they remained motionless, as the water continued to pour down around them, until Kensi eventually unhooked her legs and slithered down to sit on the floor of the shower.

"I could get used to this." She looked up at him, her hair slicked back and her eyelashes fixed into starry points from the water.

"Me too." Deeks held out his hand and pulled her up. He could get used to having her around – always. "How about we do this all over again – tomorrow morning?"

"That's a date. Only maybe not quite so early. It's your big night tonight, remember?"

Deeks groaned. "You had to go and ruin everything, didn't you?" New Year's Eve – and who was he going to be spending it with? Callen. Everybody else was going to be making whoopee, and what did he get? He got to be up on stage, doing some erotic dance routine with Callen. Life really did not get much crueller than that.

"I'm kind of looking forward to seeing you dance. And Callen too, of course."

"Yeah, right. Pity you're not going to be there."

Deeks could just see it now – everybody standing around in Ops, watching him make a fool of himself on the big screen. Knowing his luck, they would record it as well and then replay it back at every conceivable opportunity. The things he did for his country. Deeks was pretty sure this wasn't in the job description though. Maybe it would qualify for some extra sort of compensatory payment? He'd have to look into that. And there was also the chance it infringed his human rights. Louise could look into that.

"Isn't it just?"

Kensi wondered if Hetty would be willing to listen to a little persuasion. It would be handy to have another agent on the scene, after all. Changing her appearance would be easy, but she would need a partner, given it was a gay club. But then how could she possibly leave Louise alone on the biggest night of the year? Louise, who would surely want to see Callen in all his glory? Oh yes, this sounded like a plan. The fact that she was desperate to see Deeks strutting his stuff in a pair of gold lame shorts had absolutely nothing to do with her decision. That was her story and she was going to stick to it.

"I'd better go and get ready. There's a few things I need to talk to Hetty about."


	24. Chapter 24

"Fair enough." Deeks crawled back into bed and lounged there, watching Kensi getting dressed. "Tell her 'thanks' from me."

"If you get me some coffee first. And stop looking at my breasts." Kensi could see his reflection quite clearly in the mirror and knew exactly what he was doing.

"I'll get you coffee, sure – but no chance on the second. No chance at all." Watching her stand there in front of the mirror, combing her long hair and wearing only a tiny, almost miniscule pair of briefs was the stuff of which dreams were made. Half way across the bedroom floor, Deeks stopped. "So what happened to the thongs?"

"I like to keep you guessing."

Okay. So did that mean there was a chance she might go commando at some point? Deeks knew he was never going to be able to look at Kensi again without speculating as to what she was, or was not, wearing. Which was probably exactly what she had intended. God, she was so smart. And so hot. So very, very hot. Once this op was finally in the bag, they should both request some leave and get away from LA. Get right away, to some secluded cabin with no cell coverage, no WiFi – no nothing, except each other. It would have to be beside the ocean, of course – because the thought of seeing Kensi in a bikini, in the surf was one of his favourite fantasies – one modelled heavily on Ursula Andress in _Dr. No_. Sam wasn't the only member of the team to have an obsession with James Bond – Deeks just concentrated his particular interest on the female stars, rather than the locations.

"I'll go get the coffee," he said absently.

"Good boy." It looked like house-training Deeks was going to be easier than Kensi had imagined. All she had to do was wander around in a state of semi-undress and he was hers to command. "By the way, don't forget to send Hetty a report about meeting Jacob in the club."

"Anything else you'd like me to do? Maybe come back in juggling some oranges?"

"No – just the coffee will do nicely."

"Slave driver." Kensi was bossy, that was pretty much a given. She'd made that clear right from the start of their partnership. But the difference was that this time, Dees found that he was actually enjoying it. And anyway, she was right to remind him about that report, because subsequent events had driven it completely out of his mind. Maybe it was true and sex really did rot the brain? Oh well, he could live with that. It seemed a small sacrifice to make.

* * *

><p>"You made yourself scarce last night." Not that she was complaining.<p>

Macy sat beside Kensi, staring fixedly at the road ahead. "If you'd wanted an audience, you only had to ask."

"That's not what I meant – and you know it."

"I know enough to know when I'm not wanted."

"Thanks for that." Although to be perfectly honest, Kensi wouldn't have noticed if the whole starting line-up of the Rams had been in attendance, given that she'd been concentrating on other matters.

"So? Did it live up to expectations?"

"Oh yes. And then some." Kensi sighed happily. "The sex was great, don't get me wrong, actually the sex was amazing. But there was something else…"

"Like you were sharing something much deeper? A meeting of minds and then blowing these minds apart? That moment when everything in the world suddenly makes perfect sense and you realise you've found something you didn't even know you were looking for?" Macy knew all about that. She remembered it very well.

"Well, yes. Exactly that."

"I remember that. There's sex, there's really good sex and then there's making love. And that's what you were doing last night."

"And this morning." Kensi clapped her hand over her mouth. "I can't believe I just said that."

"Yeah, well you're safe with me. It's not like I can go tell anyone else, is it?" Being dead really sucked, Macy thought.

"How did you manage to keep your relationship with Callen a secret at work?"

Macy shrugged. "With great difficulty. I just had to concentrate really hard on being professional and not actually leaping on him ninety per cent of the time."

"And the other ten per cent?"

The silence was deafening.

"Really? You and Callen had sex at work?"

"It depends how you classify 'at work'. Not when we were officially on duty – well, apart from a couple of times, when we just couldn't help ourselves. But in the building – well, yes. Too much temptation to resist. And you know how Callen's basically a danger junkie. SO the thought of getting caught was actually a major turn-on for him."

"Wow." A myriad of possibilities were rushing through Kensi's mind and only the blare of a car horn jerked her back to reality.

"How about you keep you mind on driving? I'm already dead, but I'm guessing you kind of want to stay alive and in one piece?"

"That would be good," Kensi admitted, and reduced her speed slightly. There was no sense in ending this year with a speeding ticket, was there? Just because she had got slightly distracted when Deeks came back into the bedroom, but then who wouldn't want to take the time out to explore the full delights of a golden-hued man with the best body in California? Actually, make that the best body in the whole United States. Not that she was prejudiced or anything. Not at all. She just had good taste. Exceedingly good taste.

* * *

><p>By the time Deeks came strolling in to work just before eleven, Kensi had been able to persuade Hetty as to the wisdom of her plan to provide extra support at the club. In fact, the older woman had been remarkably supportive of the whole idea.<p>

"We can never have too many pairs of eyes on the scene."

Kensi thought that it was probably best not to mention that her eyes were very probably going to be glued to Deeks in all his semi-naked glory.

"Will Miss Brandel be agreeable, do you think?" Hetty sometimes wondered if her agents thought that she was born yesterday. Ms Blye was so transparent, it was positively laughable. And as for Mr Callen, his tongue had been practically hanging out when he'd spotted Louise Brandel and the spark of mutual attraction had practically ignited the air. Hetty was under no illusions that any time they had subsequently spent together had been engaged in playing scrabble. She knew that it was exceedingly unlikely that either woman would pass up an opportunity to watch them performing with Lady Gaga.

"How about I call her and find out?" As she'd expected, Louise was game. In fact, Kensi had the definite impression that Louise would be game for just about anything – up to and including posing as a gay couple with Kensi.

And she does look like Deeks, she thought. In fact, if I was gay (which I'm not), Louise would be the sort of girl I'd go for. Is that weird? I've just slept with her brother and I'm admitting to finding her attractive? Yes, it is weird. Definitely. I'm not thinking straight, that's what it is. Too little sleep and too much sex. But it was great sex. Really, really great sex. Mind-bogglingly good sex…

It was only with some considerable effort that Kensi managed to get her thoughts back onto track enough to call Louise and make her a proposal she could not refuse. One which it took Louise precisely one second to agree to. Consequently, when she followed Deeks in to the Mission later that morning, she wore an expectant look on her face.

"I'm still not sure this is such a good idea." Actually, Deeks thought it was possibly the worst idea he had ever heard.

"I didn't ask for your opinion," Louise said tartly. "Nobody did. I was asked: I agreed. End of story."

"I don't like the idea of you out there, by yourself." And equally, he really didn't want the pair of them there, watching as he and Callen engaged in their routine.

"I won't be alone. I'll be with Kensi."

"And I'll look after her."

Deeks continued talking as if Kensi had not spoken. "You don't know what you could be walking into."

"A nightclub?" Louise suggested facetiously. "Look, I get that you're worried about me, and it's sweet, really it is, but I'm a big girl and I can look after myself."

He turned round to Hetty. "I don't suppose there's any point in asking you to talk some sense into my sister? Who has never even held a gun in her entire life, far less shot anyone."

"That's because my mother had the sense to get as far away from Gordon John Brandel as she possibly could."

Callen came arrived just in time to catch the tail-end of the argument. "Louise is kind of feisty, isn't she?" From the gleam in his eye, it was clear that he thought this was no bad thing.

"Deeks is pissed because Louise and I are going undercover too."

"You are kidding me. Right? You are joking, Kensi?"

"No joke."

All of a sudden, Callen could see how totally misunderstood Deeks was. The guy talked a lot of sense after all. He'd just have to listen more carefully in future. "Deeks and I have it covered. No use in putting civilians at unnecessary risk."

You could almost see the hackles rising on Louise's neck. "I am not just a civilian, thank you very much. I'm seconded to the Justice Department."

"As a lawyer," her brother pointed out.

"Not as an agent," Callen added and nodded as Deeks threw him a grateful look.

Hetty decided to intervene before this developed into a full blown battle of the sexes. "Which is precisely why I will be there as added insurance."

Callen went several shades paler. "Please tell me you and Nell aren't posing as another couple?" While he had no issues with imagining Nell in a girl/girl relationship, the mere idea of Hetty and Nell canoodling on the dance floor was not something he even wished to contemplate in passing.

"Don't be silly. Stephanie has kindly asked me to be an observer, strictly behind the scenes, of course. Such a sweet girl." Hetty gave a seraphic smile, secure in the knowledge that neither man could possibly offer any further objections to Louise being at the club. And of course, her cunning plan ensured she would not miss a thing; indeed she would possibly have the best view in the house. Which was only as it should be.

"You got my message about Jacob?" Deeks asked, keen to change the subject. The idea of Hetty watching him and Callen perform was rather disconcerting, to say the least.

"Yes. You're certain he saw you? And recognised you?"

"Definitely. His eyes just about popped out of his head. I reckon Kensi's going to get some pressure put on her when she turns up for work today."

"Which is in about half an hour." Kensi leapt up. "I'd better go and change." Jeans were definitely not acceptable work wear in the gallery.

"As indeed had you two gentlemen. Your costumes are here."

"Oh good." It was impossible for Callen to sound any flatter.

"Hold me back." Deeks matched him in disillusioned disgust.

"Costumes?" Louise, on the other hand, was bubbling over with excitement.

"Their stage apparel," Hetty explained.

"Or the lack thereof." Sam had seen the outfits, and to say they were skimpy would have been an exaggeration.

"What else would you expect in a gay club?" Louise looked at the expression on her brother's face. "Hello? Like I keep telling you: I'm a big girl. I live in New York. Do I need to say any more?"

"No. You've already said more than enough." Deeks was beginning to wish his sister lived in suburbia and lived a boring, but respectable life.

"I'm not changing in here." Callen knew just how little privacy there could be at times. "Deeks and I will use the locker room and report back to you if there are any hitches." If need be, they could throw one the benches across the door to stop any would-be peeping toms.

With a martyred sigh, Hetty handed across the garment bags. "You really are being rather ridiculous."

"We just don't want to ruin the surprise for you," Deeks assured her. "Any of you."

* * *

><p>Kensi had fully expected Jacob to confront her in the gallery, maybe use some mild blackmail. What she was not prepared for was Aubrey to summon her into his office. He sat down behind the desk, and left her standing awkwardly. Point one to Aubrey.<p>

"Your boyfriend – Dave?"

"I told him not to come by again. I'm really sorry about that." Kensi dropped her eyes to the floor and wrung her hands together nervously. "It won't happen again. I promise."

"Good. But I think he might be able to be of some assistance to us."

"Dave?"

"Mmm. I hear he has some, how shall we put it? Unusual? Yes, that's probably right – some 'unusual' hobbies. And predilections."

"I don't know what you mean." God, this guy gave new meaning to the word 'creepy'. He thought he was so cool and so in control, when all the time he was setting himself up.

"I think you do." Aubrey placed the tips of his fingers together and watched her squirm.

"He got those tattoos a long time ago. They don't mean anything."

"Come on, Katie. I'm not stupid - even if you are. You think I care about his political leanings? Look at him – and then look at me. Who has made more of a success of their lives?"

"Dave's just been unlucky." Kensi played the loyal girlfriend to perfection.

"You're very loyal, aren't you? I wonder what his friends in the Aryan Brotherhood, or whatever they call themselves these days, would say if they knew about Dave's choice of partner."

Bingo! Jacob had clearly reported back about the encounter at _Cavalier_. Which meant that he was now officially a suspect – along with Aubrey. All Kensi had to do was to string him along a little further, and see where this lead. "But they all know me. And I haven't done anything."

"I'm not talking about you." Aubrey smacked his hand on the desk. "Don't play me for a fool, Katie. The last person who did that ended up regretting it. You're boyfriend – the Neo-Nazi – isn't quite the poster boy for Aryan manliness he'd like everyone to think, is he?"

"Please don't say anything." Kensi forced tears into her eyes, by the simple expedient of thinking about Deeks dying, dying slowly and horribly and all alone. It was remarkably effective. "They'll kill him if they find out."

"Then he shouldn't be quite so careless, should he?" By this stage Aubrey was leaning across the desk and yelling at the full force of his lungs.

"Please. I'll do anything. I love him, you see. It's just that he's going through a difficult time. And he love me. I know he does." Kensi had seen enough battered women making the same statements, totally in denial about the fact that what they called 'love' any sane person would call 'sadism'.

"I want to help you, Katie." Aubrey switched gears smoothly, sitting back down, his body language relaxed and inviting of confidences, his voice soft and low. Kensi had to hand it to the man: he was good, he was very good. Too good, perhaps. All the signs were pointing to the fact that he must have had some form of training, very possibly military training. She'd have to get Nell to dig a little deeper into his background.

"I'll do anything."

"Good girl. Starting tomorrow, you'll be working with Jacob. He'll show you the ropes. Nothing too complicated – nothing a smart girl like you can't handle. As long as you keep that mouth shut." He handed her across an immaculately laundered handkerchief. "I think we're going to get along just fine. AS long as you keep your end of the bargain."

"Thank you, Mr Colter." Kensi dabbed at her eyes pathetically. She hadn't quite got him yet on the misappropriation of antiquities, far less the murder of Mark Foley, but they were definitely getting there. Working with Jacob would open up the doors to a whole new set of information. And there was definitely more to Aubrey Colter than she'd previously suspected. The immaculate gallery owner had a military background, nothing was more certain. One that had not appeared on the routine background checks, which meant that either he had friends in very high places, and was possibly undercover himself – which was exceptionally unlikely, although not impossible – or something was amiss. Kensi was betting on the latter. The last thing anybody needed was for an internecine and unseemly inter-agency pissing match about who had jurisdiction.

* * *

><p>"What the hell?" Callen looked at Deeks who was manipulating himself cautiously into a flesh-coloured G-string and then down at himself. "I don't believe it."<p>

"I know. I get that a lot, actually. But I can't really take credit for it, seeing it's kind of a God-given gift. Deeks sounded insufferably smug. "A bit of advice, Callen? One: you're not supposed to look at other guys in the locker room. And two: she lied. Size does matter and girls do compare notes."

"That's not what I'm talking about and you know it."

"Really?" The G-string was cutting into places he would really rather it did not. However, it he wanted to avoid total accidental exposure on stage, Deeks reckoned he would just have to get used to it.

"What bit of 'full body wax' didn't you understand?" If he had to suffer, Callen was damned sure Deeks was going to suffer right along with him.

"I understood it alright. I just didn't agree with it. I just got the bits that show done. The rest I left _au natural_, if you like."

"I don't like at all."

"Then stop looking. Which you shouldn't be doing anyway."

"You cheated." Callen didn't see why he should look like an oven-ready chicken – all bare and naked – while Deeks had merely had a quick tidy up.

"What are you going to do about it? Tell Hetty?" Deeks stared very hard at him. "I'll deny it. And I'm not going to let her check out my junk at close quarters." He held up the gold lame shorts and winced. "Anyway, you've got off lightly. Just look at these."

Callen looked. And then he laughed, long and hard. "Did Hetty put down your mental age instead of your size? Because those look like they'd fit an eleven-year old boy."

"A skinny eleven year old." Deeks held them against himself and winced. "They must stretch." He hoped they stretched.

"Try them and see." Callen had the feeling he was going to enjoy this. His own leather shorts, with additional strapping to cross over his chest and covered in studs seemed positively roomy by contrast.


	25. Chapter 25

"Turn around." Deeks gestured. "Go on, I'm serious. I'm not doing this while you're watching me."

"I've already seen it all, Deeks," Callen said patiently.

"I don't care. I don't want you to see it again. And anyway, you shouldn't have looked in the first place."

Heaving an exaggerated sigh, Callen turned around. And then listened to the sound of material being pulled slowly over flesh. "Well?"

There was a long silence, followed by the exhalation of breath. "Surprisingly comfortable." Spandex. Oh, the joy of Spandex. Deeks found to his amazement that he was acutally able to breath. He did a couple of deep knee bends (what was that Kensi had called them? Pliés?) and discovered the material was very forgiving. It didn't ride up and it didn't bite in to places where it shouldn't bite in. Which was more than could be said for the G-string. Perhaps he should just conveniently leave that behind? What was the worst that could happen?

"Those shorts give new meaning to the phrase 'fits like a glove'. And they're surprisingly low cut." Callen blinked a couple of times, as he saw just how low they sat on Deeks' hips. "Could they be any lower?" It looked like there was a good twelve inches between Deeks' belly button and the waistband of the shorts. As he looked on in considerable awe, Callen realised that actually, gold was a really good colour for Deeks. Not that he would ever tell him so. The guy was vain enough already, always bragging about his superior hair.

"Doubtful." The shorts were positively vestigial, skimming precariously on this side of decency, fitting so low on his hips that it was only the sheer amount of elastic that kept them in place. Deeks hitched at them, but the Spandex was stretched to its horizontal limit and had nothing to give to increase the vertical depth, so he gave it up as a bad job. One wrong move, he thought, and things were going to get embarrassing.

"They're very form-fitting." Almost obscenely so, Callen thought. But then that was kind of the point, wasn't it? Lady Gaga was not exactly reticent and it made sense (in a warped sort of way) that her backing dancers should be equally outré. "Turn around."

"Why?"

"I want to see what your butt looks like."

"I'm getting really worried about you, Callen. Seriously worried." First he eyed up my junk, now he's after my ass, Deeks thought. All this erotic dancing has done something to him. I wonder If Louise knows?

"Turn around. I want to see how big your butt looks in those shorts."

"My butt isn't big to start off with." Deeks craned his neck round as far as it would go. "We need more mirrors in here." As the only mirrors in the locker room were above the washbasins, he'd probably have to go and stand on one of the toilets to get a decent view.

"Actually, your butt looks fine." Callen just couldn't cope with seeing Deeks' junk quite so prominently on display, that was all. Looking at his butt seemed a much safer bet. "Only don't do that. Please." That was more than he wanted to see.

"I've got to get my boots on."

"Well, do it sitting down. Because when you bend over like that – you're kind of showing butt cleavage."

"Butt cleavage?" Deeks sat down with alacrity. "Go on then – let's see the macho black leather bondage gear. Just give me a shout if you need a hand with that harness." He had a similar one for Monty – in webbing, not black leather, and without the studs, but the principle had to be the same. With any luck and a few lessons, Monty could pull him along on his skateboard.

"Bondage gear?" Callen looked at his outfit with something approaching disgust. "And what the hell are these?"

Deeks came over to take a closer look. "I'd guess it's a nipple ring. Or, more precisely, two nipple rings."

He was not going to ask how Deeks knew that. "I don't have pierced nipples."

"Yet." That was definitely a smirk on Deeks' face. "You are the man who let the teenage beautician rip off all your body hair, remember? All your body hair."

"I'm hardly likely to forget." It still rankled that Deeks had merely undergone a quick tidy-up down below, while Callen had bared all and suffered accordingly. And what on earth was Louise going to say when she found out?

"Anyway, what's a couple of piercings between friends?"

"Hetty is not my friend. She is an evil mastermind. And she is not piercing any part of me."

"Good luck with that." It was only a matter of time before Callen realised that the rings merely clipped on to his nipples, rather than going all the way through, but in the meantime, Deeks was determined to get as mileage as possible out of the joke. "Aren't you going to put those shorts on?"

After a brief struggle and some momentary confusion over which strap went where, Callen was finally geared up. "It could be worse – I suppose." At least black leather was relatively macho. And the shorts were a decent size and a surprisingly good fit.

"Why are you looking at me when you say that?"

"No reason." It had to be said that black leather was infinitely more tasteful than gold lame. It was also considerably more resilient and Callen had little fear that the strongly stitched seams would fray during some of the more extreme moves. Plus, the addition of the harness meant that there was no danger of his shorts taking an unscheduled journey southwards. The same could not be said for Deeks, upon whom the gold lame shimmered like a fragile second skin. One wrong move and Deeks could be showing all his god-given assets to a baying crown. No, you knew where you were with leather. Leather was tough, it was durable and gave you decent coverage. And it wiped clean into the bargain. Lamé, on the other hand…

"Very nice indeed. You've exceeded my expectations." There was a highly appreciative tenor to Hetty's voice as she surveyed the two barely-clad men.

"I'm not going to ask how you got in here." Callen should have known better than to think blocking the only known entrance to the locker room would have deterred Hetty, who had probably worked as a technical adviser on _The Great Escape_.

"That's probably a very wise decision, Mr Callen. And Mr Deeks? There really is no need for you to let your mouth hang open like that. Or indeed to stand like that. It's nothing I've not seen before, after all."

"You've not seen my 'nothing'," he said darkly, and left his hands protectively in front of himself. And then Deeks remembered waking up in hospital to find Hetty sitting beside the bed. She wouldn't have – would she?

Hetty just smiled enigmatically, something she had acquired a good of practice at over the years. She knew only too well the benefits of saying precisely nothing and keeping them guessing, in fact it was just one of the ways she ensured she kept on top of things. In a manner of speaking.

"One final dress rehearsal with Mr Fraser and then you can get changed back into your own clothes. But first, we need to make sure these costumes work properly." Although Hetty didn't want to think about what would happen if there were any technical malfunctions. Of course, she would have an emergency repair kit, but they would just have to manage, one way or another. After all, they were both trained professionals and used to improvising, coming up with a plan at a moment's notice. "And then you won't be required until ten pm, for hair and makeup."

"I washed my hair this morning," Deeks protested but as he thought back to that shower a broad grin crept across his face.

"How very nice. However, it appears you neglected to comb it afterwards. And Mr Callen doesn't quite appear to have mastered styling his hair extensions yet. Never mind." Hetty disappeared behind the rows of lockers, leaving both men shaking their heads in disbelief. "Don't keep Mr Fraser waiting," her disembodied voice announced, but when they followed the sound, there was no trace of her to be seen.

"One of these days, I'm going to find out how she manages to appear and disappear at will," Deeks vowed.

"That'll probably be around the same time as I beat her to the top of the climbing wall." With a long-suffering sigh, Callen walked towards the gym and prepared for one last run-through of the routine, although he felt that by now he could probably have done the manoeuvres in his sleep.

* * *

><p>"There's no trace of Aubrey Colter having any service record." Eric looked up from the screen. "Sorry about that, Kensi."<p>

"Damn. And I was so certain. How about our friends in Langley?"

"I checked with the CIA, FBI and any other databases I could think of – they all came up a blank."

"Isn't it a good thing I took the alternative angle?" That was why she and Eric worked so well together, Nell thought: while he took the orthodox approach, while she went off at a tangent. Or vice versa. And this time, her strange trajectory had reaped dividends. "Aubrey Colter had no military connection. But his brother did. His twin brother, Austin Colter."

A picture flashed up on the screen, alongside Aubrey's current driving license photograph. "His identical twin brother," Sam breathed, noting the desert combat gear. "And let me guess – he served in Iraq?"

"Got it in one." Nell tried to keep the triumph out of her voice and was almost successful. "Would you like to guess where his lasting posting was?"

"Abu Ghraib?" The puzzle pieces were starting to fall into place. Where else would a trained interrogator be, after all?

"You're on a roll today. Luckily for him, Austin Colter was back on leave stateside when reports of abuse started to leak out. His name was fairly prominent in them, but not for the standard reasons. Colter concentrated on the wealthier prisoners, taking bribes from them, in the form of artifacts. And he wasn't too bothered about any provenance."

"So Colter is currently AWOL?" He had to be, seeing as the man had never stood trial.

"No, sadly Austin Colter died in June 2004." Nell pulled up a copy of his death certificate. "Cause of death was a single gunshot to the head. He didn't leave a note, but given the circumstances and the fact the army was very keen to talk to him, suicide was the obvious verdict."

"If it was Austin." Kensi stared at the two photographs. "Which I doubt. It has to be Austin working in the gallery. What better cover than to come home, kill his twin brother Aubrey and then assume his identity? That way he not only wriggles out of the abuse charges, but he walks into Aubrey's job at the gallery and he's got a whole load of stolen Iraqi works of art to start selling once the furore dies down. It's so simple, it's brilliant."

"Unless you're Aubrey – the real Aubrey. Things weren't so brilliant for him, were they?" Macy was aware that Kensi was not happy. "And don't bother looking at me like that. Just because I'm dead doesn't mean I know everything. I'm as much in the dark about all this as the next person. Just because you stop breathing doesn't mean you become infallible."

"And then somehow Lt. Foley found out, probably confronted Colter, and that meant he had to die too. Once you've killed your own brother in cold blood, what's another death going to matter? Not to mention the fact he'd already betrayed his brothers in arms and his country."

This case had just become personal for Sam. He had seen the horrors of war at first hand, had thought he was going to die at the hands of his captors – but he had served the United States of America honourably and according to the rules of engagement. While his experiences had left deep scars, Sam had learned to live with those. He could never have lived with the knowledge that he had wilfully abused prisoners of war while serving his country. Colter had not only betrayed his brother and his country, he had betrayed all the ordinary, decent men and women who were proud to wear the uniforms of the United States armed forces. Sam was going to enjoy bringing the man to justice – and he would do it by the book, chapter and verse, so that there was no possible loophole he could wriggle out of. That would be the best, most satisfactory revenge.

"After tonight, we're going after Colter," Kensi promised. "We'll get him Sam, I promise you."

"You and Louise still set on turning up?" Sam didn't like the idea of Louise being brought into this any more than Deeks or Callen did.

"Try and stop us. We've got our outfits picked out and everything." She caught the look on Sam's face. "It'll be fine. I'll be right by her side all the time."

"Just like Deeks was right by your side the other night? And you still got hurt."

"Nothing's going to happen."

"You don't know that. You can never know that. And Kensi, what if something happens to Louise? What is that going to do to you and Deeks?"

She didn't want to think about that, because if anything happened to Louise, it would tear Deeks apart. And it would be her fault. What had seemed like a great idea, going to see their guys strut their stuff with Lady Gaga now looked like the worst plan she'd ever come up with. Only it was too late to back out now, and Louise was just bull-headed enough to go ahead on her own. Kensi was beginning to regret ever opening her mouth, when she and Louise could have been watching events unfold on the big screen here in Ops, safely away from any possible danger.

"I'll take care of her."

"You'd better. Or you'll have Deeks and Callen after you."

* * *

><p>Fraser watched as the two men strolled into the gym looking markedly different from just a week ago. Now they moving with a new confidence and looked leaner, loose-limbed and fitter – almost hungry, one might say. There was a grace and new strength in their movements, so that they looked virile and unstoppable. Those boys had worked their butts off this week – and their butts showed the difference, being noticeably perter. Fraser was somewhat of a connoisseur of the male posterior, and right now he rated them right up there with the best. The boys would do very nicely, he thought. Very nicely indeed. And the way they bodies looked in those outfits, Fraser knew that the audience would think so too –whether they were gay, straight or ambivalent.<p>

"Welcome, gentlemen. And don't we look fine?" It might have been a trick of the light, but Fraser appeared to be smiling. "Let's do this once more, just for old times' sake, eh?"

Deeks shrugged nonchalantly. "Why not?" It was strange, but in a funny sort of way he was going to miss this. Dancing was a much better work out than he'd thought, and the changes in his body were nothing to be sneezed at.

"I've got a treat for you, Mr Callen." Fraser produced a black leather bull whip and handed it across. "You have been practicing, haven't you? We don't want any unfortunate accidents, do we?"

"We most certainly do not." Considering he would be the one at the receiving end of any such accidents, unfortunate or otherwise, Deeks considered he had earned the right to speak out.

"I've been practising, don't worry." Callen took the whip, unfurled it and then cracked it experimentally, as Deeks hurried out of the way. "Pity you don't smoke, or I could have knocked a cigarette right out of your lips."

"I'll pass, thank you very much," Deeks said hastily, just as Fraser delved into his pockets.

"You sure, son? I don't mind lending you one." He held out a packet invitingly.

"No, I'm good." He rather liked having two lips in working order and was pretty sure Kensi felt the same way. "Just be careful with that thing, okay?" It looked as if Callen knew what he was doing, but still…

"Don't you trust me?"

"With my life? Yes. With that whip? Not really."

"Okay boys, into position and let's do this. And let's do it for the Gaga!" It appeared that Fraser had been speaking to Hetty. Either that or Lady Gaga had a hell of a lot of fans over sixty.

They ran through the entire set, from beginning to end, with Fraser adding in helpful reminders in stentorian tones about lighting cues and when the pyrotechnics would go off. At the end, they were both panting, incredibly exhilarated and covered in a sheen of sweat as the music finally died away.

"And the crowd goes wild. You exit stage left on the biggest bloody high of your lives and the lights go out." Fraser stood with his hands on his hips. "Aye, well I've seen worse, I suppose. You'll do. Dance like that tonight, and I'll not be ashamed of you. And mind: I'll be watching." He felt strangely moved – those boys had given their all, they'd danced like they were born to it.

"You will?" It seemed as if the world and his wife was going to be at the club tonight, Deeks thought.

"Of course. I wouldn't miss something like this. Wee Stefani's a lovely lassie and remembered me right off. I'll be with Hetty tonight – just in case."

Just in case? Callen didn't like the sound of that. Just in case of what? In case he and Deeks came down with food poisoning and the intrepid twosome had to step up and dance? And how did everyone seem to be on such intimate terms with Lady Gaga? He felt oddly left out.

"Great. We'll see you there then." Deeks thought he'd have a quick shower and then head back to his apartment for a few hours. With any luck, Kensi would have the same idea.

"One more thing, gentlemen." Fraser held out his hand. "It's been a pleasure working with you both. An absolute pleasure. And once this is all over, I'm going to treat you both to the finest malt whisky that ever left Scotland's shores."

"Mine's a double – on the rocks," Callen said and shook his hand.

"Thanks for helping not to make too much of a fool of myself," Deeks said.

"I heard you made quite a stir out on the town the other night. Keep it up, son and you'll do just fine tonight." Fraser clasped his hand firmly and then clapped him on the shoulder. "And don't let that wee girl get away. The lassies aye love a man that can dance." He winked briefly and then walked out of the gym.

* * *

><p><em>And it's nearly showtime folks! All the plot bunnies are getting very excited about that, and want to get in on the act. I tried explaining that Lady Gaga would take one look at them and incorporate them into her latest outfit, but they are insistent. And I know better than to argue with evil plot bunny.<em>


	26. Chapter 26

_It's show time, folks!_

_And happy birthday to Arlyn, who makes a special guest appearance in today's chapter._

* * *

><p>"You're determined to go to Cavalier tonight, aren't you?" Deeks watched as Louise applied another coat of mascara.<p>

"No, I thought I'd get all dressed up and then just stay at home by myself. I'm only dressed like this because I thought I'd give Monty a bath later on."

"You could go to the Mission – watch the show with Nell and Eric."

"That wouldn't be nearly so much fun. Come on Marty – it's New Year's Eve and I'm going to have a fun night out, I'll get to see Lady Gaga live and have a chance to bond with Kensi." She turned around and smiled at him. "And I'll get to see you dance. A chance to make up for all those school shows of yours I missed."

"You didn't miss much."

"You're worried about me, aren't you?"

"Of course I am. Worried sick. You've no idea what might happen in there." The thought that Louise might get caught up in something, might get hurt or worse still…

"Well, now you know how I feel. Every single day." She gave him a searching look. "Not much fun, is it?"

"This is different. And I know how to look after myself."

"And yet you still got shot. Because somebody deliberately made you a target. The same could happen to me any time in New York – I'm walking to work and somebody takes a shot at me, because I was prosecuting a case and they lost. Or because they want my cell phone. That's what the world is like – it shouldn't be, but it is. You know that and I know that."

Deeks sighed. "Nothing I say is going to make any difference, is it?" Why did she have to be so stubborn? Okay, he knew the answer to that one: because it was in the genes. Why couldn't they have inherited something really cool, like having six toes on each foot instead?

"Not a bit of difference, so you might as well just give up now. And besides, Kensi's going to be looking out for me."

And that was another problem, Deeks thought. Because that meant Kensi's neutrality was compromised. Knowing her, at the first sign of danger she would literally act as a human shield for Louise. Which only gave him something else to worry about. At this rate he'd probably fall off that podium during the first number and break his neck, which would at least provide a distraction.

"You just do what Kensi says, all right? No arguing – just do it."

"I promise – okay? Don't worry so much, I'll be fine." Louise kissed him on the cheek. "But just for the record, I think it's sweet that you want to look after your big sister." The way she spoke, it sounded as if he was at eight, Deeks thought, and a couple of feet shorter than her. "You just worry about Callen mistiming that whip."

"Thanks for reminding me." Great, now he had one more thing to worry about. "Isn't that dress a bit short, by the way?" It seemed barely decent, just skimming her butt.

"No, I'd say it was just about exactly the right length. I want to look pretty for my date, don't I?" Louise smoothed down her scarlet mini and then looked out of the window and then waved in delight. "And here they are." Checking her makeup one last time, Louise went to the door, leaving Deeks wondering which 'date' she was referring to: Callen or Kensi.

And then Kensi walked in and everything else flew out of his mind except the nearness of her. It was impossible to think of anything else when Kensi was standing there, wearing a sleek black satin tuxedo, tailored within an inch of its life, with what appeared to be a lace camisole on underneath. But it was the scarlet wig that took his breath away, transforming Kensi utterly, rendering her almost unrecognisable. But she was still gorgeous and Deeks would have known her anywhere just by her smile and by the reaction she induced in his body.

"You look different. I can't quite put my finger on it though." And she was wearing coloured contacts, because her eyes were sea green. Whatever perfume Kensi was wearing was deep and heady, rising around them both and making it hard to think straight.

"Must be that new shade of lipstick I tried."

"It works." Oh God, her lips looked incredible – full and sultry and just begging to be kissed. Deeks had this flashing vision of Kensi pulling up his shirt and imprinting a series of kisses all over his torso, branding him irrevocably with her lips, leaving a lasting remnant of their passion.

"I thought you'd like it."

"I like it. I like everything about it." Deeks snaked an arm her around her waist and pulled her close for a heart-poundingly intense kiss. Only the sound of voices made them pull apart.

"I'm not sure that's quite your colour, Deeks," Callen remarked. "I had you down more as a pastel pink, myself."

Throwing caution to the winds, Kensi reached out and rubbed away the smudges of red from his lips. "Oh, I don't know. I think Marty looks good in pretty much anything. Of course, he looks even better in nothing at all."

Louise felt it was probably time to go, before her brother went any redder. As it was, he was practically matching Kensi's lipstick. "Have fun tonight, guys."

"You're supposed to say 'break a leg', aren't you?"

"Yes – but Marty would probably take that literally. And be careful with that whip, Callen – I like my brother exactly the way he is."

* * *

><p>"I told you pink was more your colour." Callen smiled happily at Arlyn, who was carefully applying a sheer wash of colour to Deeks' lips, having already given him a pair of killer cheekbones. "He wouldn't listen though."<p>

"You might not want to boast quite so much about your make-up choices for me outside these four walls," Deeks advised. "Not everyone is as understanding as Arlyn."

"I think it's great that Callen's not afraid to embrace his feminine side." Adding just a touch more definition to Deeks' eyebrows, Arlyn stood back and surveyed the result. "Perfection. Even if I do say so myself." He couldn't look any more edible if he'd been a box of Godiva chocolates.

"Of course, you had great material to work with. And Callen doesn't look too bad either. Considering what you had to start with.

Actually, Deeks was seriously impressed with the work Arlyn had put in: Callen looked completely different, with his wavy hair lightly oiled and then slicked back. His eyes looked much darker and the overall impression was slightly sinister, highlighted by a slim pencil moustache. The man himself was impressed with the transformation from clean-cut and wholesome to gigolo. Maybe they should keep Arlyn on a permanent retainer, because the girl was worth her weight in gold. Next to his study in sultriness, Deeks looked innocence personified, all blond, bouncy curls and big blue eyes. Much as Callen hated to admit it, Hetty had been spot on with her choice of characterisation for them and the contrast would definitely work on stage.

"We just need to touch up those tans a bit, and add a little extra definition and then you boys are good too go." Finger-licking good, in fact. It was had taken every ounce of strength she possessed not to throw herself bodily into their laps. Never had so much temptation been put before one woman.

"Extra definition?" Like they hadn't given enough blood, toil, sweat and tears to get their bodies up to this peak of physical perection?

"Think of it as the cherry on top of the icing on top of the cake. Just a little something extra." Arlyn tested the air gun and thought this was probably the best birthday she'd ever spent. At first, she'd been reluctant to accept Hetty's plea for help, preferring to spend the evening with friends. But all that had changed when Hetty had produced a couple of candid shots of the two guys working out in the gym and assured her that while they might be posing as gay dancers, nothing could be further from the truth. That had settled it there and then. Only an idiot, or someone dead from the neck down would pass up an opportunity like that, and Arlyn was neither. Now, if only she could get their cell numbers, tonight would be just perfect.

Five minutes later, and Callen's musculature was subtley enhanced, while the lines of Deeks' pelvis ribs had been similarly highlighted.

"I think that's just about it." Apart from a kiss, of course. Just to say 'thank you', that was all Arlyn wanted and then it would officially be the best day of her life. If only Hetty wasn't sitting in the corner, watching her every move.

"A magnificent job . You've excelled yourself." Hetty inclined her head towards the door, and Arlyn flashed one last smile before leaving. Why did Hetty have to have such a forceful personality.

"Well? Are you ready, gentlemen?" It was after eleven now, and she could feel the excitement growing, the tension rising with each passing second. "There's a full house out there tonight."

Including Kensi and Louise, Deeks thought. It would be easier if they weren't there. Right now, he felt like running straight out of the club and not stopping until he got to New York. The old 'fight or flight' reflex had come down firmly on the side of escaping while he still could. This wasn't like going into an op, this was much worse. Why had nobody told him it would be this bad?

"We'd better warm up, hadn't we Callen?" Anything to keep busy and take his mind off the waiting.

"Good idea." Callen took his cue from Hetty and held the door open politely. God, he felt sick. The world had gone mad and nothing made any sense. Why hadn't he insisted on getting some exotic, mend-bending drugs to get through this madness?

"I feel sick." Deeks started stretching, going through a regime that only days ago had seemed impossible.

"Me too. They're all going to be looking at us, you realise?" He was used to going in, doing a job and then coming out again. But they were going to be totally exposed up there, literally in full view and that troubled Callen. Too many things could go wrong – and that was only the dancing.

"Thanks for reminding me."

"Any time."

One last frantic mental run-through of the routines, each move etched into his brain with laser-like precision. So many things could go wrong and there was a sniper in his brain, highlighting each single one. This was the way to madness. Why weren't they doing something simple and less risky, like defusing an atomic bomb?

* * *

><p>Callen looked at the clock: eleven twenty five. They should be on by now. What was the hold up?<p>

"At least we're in this together, right?" Deeks' voice sound tense and strained.

"All the way." Thank God, because doing this alone would be a hundred times worse.

There was a knock at the door and Hetty appeared, saying something that made no sense to either of them, because this was just a script, not reality. She beckoned, and they followed: two little lambs going to the slaughter.

The corridor leading to the stage seemed infinitely long and dark, leading to nowhere and everywhere and the noise of the crowd was starting to get louder now: they were chanting for Lady Gaga and stamping their feet, so that the building seemed to vibrate around them.

We should be on by now, Deeks thought. There seemed to be a hundred different people rushing around, but all he could think about was the audience out there waiting – just waiting. He found himself staring at the curtain and wishing it would never rise, that all this was some sort of nightmare and that he would wake up at any minute.

Slipping into position on stage, Callen took one last look at Deeks: he had that look on his face again, that far-away look that signalled the change from himself into this alien creature, who held himself differently and regarded the whole world with a proud, haughty attitude.

This was it. There was no going back. This was really going to happen. And he could not remember a single dance move: not one.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it's what you've been waiting for. The star of the year is our star tonight. Lady Gaga!"

The noise increased to deafening levels as the curtain began to rise and Callen turned to where he knew Deeks was standing in the darkness and grinned as the palpable excitement seeped into his bones and the adrenilin started to build up. This was it. Finally, this was it and it felt amazing to hear to noise suddenly drop away as a single spotlight illuminated a solitary figure standing in the centre of the stage.

That was what did it for Deeks – the abrupt change from screaming adulation into almost worshipful silence. This was power in its purest, most raw form. And it felt amazing. This was better than any high he'd ever experienced before, legal or otherwise. This was the ultimate aphrodisiac. Every single fibre in his body was straining to get started, to give these people the show of their lives. Glancing to one side, Deeks saw the familiar figure of Fraser standing in the wings and wondered how the man managed to live after a lifetime of such head-rushing moments had suddenly ended.

And they were on.

* * *

><p>"Hottest ticket in town. You ladies enjoy yourselves." Sam nodded as Kensi and Louise walked into the club. He couldn't shake the feeling that this was too risky, there were too many people around. Sure, Eric and Nell had access to all the security cameras, but there were still too many unknown variables, too many things that could go wrong.<p>

"This is incredible." Louise looked around and sighed. "All this and Lady Gaga too." And the _piece de resistance_ would be seeing Callen on stage, dancing in tight black leather. Her mouth began to water at the prospect.

"You're a fan?"

"You're not? Girl, you've got to get with it. Live a little. Walk on the wild side, you know." Louise held out her hand. "Come on – let's dance."

Kensi felt herself being tugged through the crowd, even as she tried to scan the club for anything out of place, and faces that looked out of place – heck, just any familiar faces. It was probably too much to hope that either Jacob or Aubrey/Austin would be here, but you never knew.

"Kensi?" Amidst all the revellers, Macy looked incongruously normal – almost boring – in her slim black pants and tailored white blouse. "Kensi, I've got a bad feeling about this."

"What do you mean? You've got to give me more than that. What do you want me to do – evacuate the club because you've got a bad feeling? Macy, there would be a riot."

"I don't know," Macy said miserably. "It's just that something's not right."

Eric's voice sounded in Kensi's ear. "Is this meant for us, Kensi? Do you want to abort the mission? Please clarify?"

"I was just talking to myself. Sorry." At least noise levels in the club meant that nobody else appeared to have heard. "How's everything looking?"

"It's looking a lot like show time."

No sooner had Eric spoken, than the crowd started to chant, and stamp their feet in time to the chant, so that the dance floor started to vibrate. Still, the stage curtain stayed stubbornly in place.

"Kensi – listen to me. Something's not right. Something's going to happen – something bad. I just know it."

Before Kensi could say or do anything, all the house lights were suddenly extinguished and a voice came booming out into the darkness:

"Ladies and gentlemen, it's what you've been waiting for. The star of the year is our star tonight. Lady Gaga!"

It scarcely seemed possible that the crowd could make any more noise, but as the curtain started to rise they exceeded themselves, screaming with an intensity and adulation that set all the hairs on Kensi's arms standing on end. And then a single spotlight burst into full beam, illuminating a lone figure standing in the middle of the stage and it was as if the mute button on a TV remote had suddenly been engaged.

The complete silence continued as Lady Gaga sang the first lines of _Marry The Night_ unaccompanied, and then the crowd started to scream their appreciation.

"What an artist. It's magnificent, the way she holds them in the palm of her hand, isn't it?" Hetty whispered, but Fraser wasn't listening. He was watching his boys, and the way they were gradually being revealed in silhouette as the stage lights gradually increased.

"Go on, boys – show them what you're made of," he muttered fiercely. "Just be careful of that whip, Callen." If he maimed Deeks right at the start, it would spell disaster.

Kensi found she was rooted to the spot and holding onto Louise's hand as the second verse started and the figures of two men were gradually revealed to be standing on twin podiums on either side of Lady Gaga, who was now informing her fans that she intended to make love to this dark. And then the music started with the chorus, accompanied by the gun-shot sound of a whip cracking across the stage.

"Oh my God." Louise stood open-mouthed as the stage burst into life and colour. "I do not believe it."


	27. Chapter 27

Kensi wasn't sure she believed her eyes either. Where the stage had started off in complete darkness, now the lights were slowly going up to reveal the shadowy forms of two men posing in profile, standing proudly erect on top of the podiums. Even from a distance they were instantly recognisable to her as Callen on the right and Deeks on the left. And then, just as the music started, the lighting changed so that where there had been shadow there was now full vivid technicolour. She flinched involuntarily as a whip flew across the stage, flickering its entire length from Callen's hand to seemingly lash across Deeks' back. Again the noise rang out, clear and sharp, and again Deeks seemed to recoil in agony. Kensi was sure that it was just a carefully rehearsed effect, a clever illusion and that the whip past behind him, but still, it looked real enough to make her shudder. It was only too easy to imagine the sort of damage the leather could inflict on a bare, exposed back.

The next second and the whip was discarded, both men turned to face the audience, and revealed the extent of their costumes. She'd known they would be brief – why else would all that waxing be required – but this was beyond all expectations. Those gold shorts were beyond brief – they were practically non-existent. They covered just enough of Deeks to make her fevered imagination run riot as to what they were not covering. And that just made her mouth water.

"Oh my God," Kensi echoed weakly, as her eyes were suddenly glued to Deeks, standing there under the bright lights, the gold of his hair echoing the gold of those shorts and boxing boots. Those shorts. Those very short shorts that seemed to cling to every part of him, emphasising parts that really needed no emphasis at all, propelling them into even greater prominence, so that just looking at him made her feel quite light-headed, as if all the oxygen had suddenly been pulled from the atmosphere. Everything about Deeks seemed to be in various shades of gold and bronze, so that he almost glowed under the lights. She'd always known he had long legs – but they had never looked longer, his hips had never looked quite so slim and the accentuated line of his pelvis bones disappearing into the tiny excuse for shorts was doing peculiar things to her head while sending her libido into overdrive at the same time. Okay, he was officially sex on a stick.

"That's my baby brother," Louise gasped in shock, and an outsize Goth, who bore a remarkable resemblance to Hagrid, patted her on the shoulder.

"Not so little. Not little at all. He's definitely all grown up now." He clearly approved.

Louise was mildly disconcerted to see that he was almost drooling as he watched Deeks gyrate sensuously, and went back to staring at Callen, who was echoing his movements, but with a more savage edge to them, all the while throwing covetous glances across the stage. Callen in black leather with his body glistening under the stage lights was a sight to behold and he certainly knew how to throw some impressive moves. And the way he had wielded that whip had set her blood pounding. With any luck Hetty would let him take that back home tonight. Surely NCIS couldn't have much use for it?

So coming to a gay club meant great music and the chance to watch incredibly hot men posture semi-naked? Louise wondered why nobody had told her about this before. Who wanted to go to a straight club when what was on offer here was so much better? Of course, what was even better was that the beefcake on offer happened to be her over, and she was going to get a private viewing later on tonight, in extreme close up. There was nothing like starting off a new year as you meant to continue after all.

Kensi found that her mouth was dry as she watched Deeks dance. That foretaste in the club a few nights ago was nothing in comparison to what she was seeing now: that had been relatively restrained, while this was the real, unexpurgated version. This was all about sex, no doubt about it. One arm extended over his head, the other slithering down towards his crotch as the pelvic thrusts continued, Deeks gazed out across the audience, clearly aware of the effect his dancing was having and revelling in every second.

"Thighs like a Grecian god." Lean and tanned, with long muscles and the most wonderful shade of deep, sun-kissed golden-brown, she couldn't stop looking at them and imagining them wrapped around her body as Deeks went down into a deep knee bend and Callen did likewise across the stage. And then they were down prone on their respective podiums and doing quick-fire press-up, increasing the beat to incorporate a handclap in-between the repetitions.

"Great buns." Louise squeezed Kensi's hand as the song moved to its climax and the dancers bounced back onto their feet and then down onto the stage as a fusillage of fireworks exploded behind them.

"Great everything." So it wasn't subtle in the slightest – big deal. It was all about sex – sex in its rawest, most elemental form: the energy that lay behind everything in the universe, the prime motivator when life was stripped right down to the basics.

"Your brother?" Hagrid asked, as the number ended. "Is he… I mean, would he?" HE seemed unaccountably shy all of a sudden.

"I'm afraid he's spoken for," Louise said firmly.

Hagrid looked crestfallen and oddly vulnerable. "All the best one are." He shuffled off through the crowd, as Lady Gaga thanked her little monsters and then started into _Bad Romance_.

"I love this song." Louise thought she was probably having the best evening of her life. This was like extended foreplay and was only serving to whet her appetite for the main attraction later on that evening. And the way Callen looked right now, she would be ordering seconds, and maybe even thirds.

"I love the way he moves." If Deeks moved his hips like that just one more time, Kensi didn't think she would be responsible for what happened next. Surely he had to know the effect he was having on her when he did that sideways move, shimming across the stage and rotating his pelvis?

"Kensi. Your left – nine o'clock." Eric's voice was suddenly in her ear. "I think you've just been made."

Oh bugger. It was Jennifer from the gallery and she was looking straight at her. What the hell was she doing here? There was only one thing to do.

"Kiss me." Kensi put her hand on Louise's hip and turned her body towards her.

"What?"

"Just kiss me. Now." Come on, her eyes pleaded. There's no time for explanations. Can't either you or your brother just do what you're told? Does everything have to be a debate?

Louise had this vivid recollection of her brother saying _"__You just do what Kensi says, all right? No arguing – just do it."_ She was almost sure this wasn't what he had in mind, but she'd promised Marty, so she leant in towards Kensi and closed her eyes.

Okay, that concealed her from Jennifer's beady glare, Kensi thought with relief. She'd done this sort of a manoeuvre dozens of times before, only it had always been with a partner of the opposite sex.

Back in Ops, Eric tried very hard not to wonder if they were really kissing and if there were any tongues involved. He was a professional and he would concentrate on the job in hand. And then later on, he would think about this in great detail and replay the scene over and over again in his mind. Probably in slow-motion.

"Okay, Kensi, she's moving away through the crowd. You're good to go," Eric informed her. "Maybe she was just - ummmm - _interested i_n you?"

At his side, Nell struggled not to giggle as she saw a look of horror on Kensi's face. "I've got an official request to put to Hetty," she said to Eric, having made sure her comms channel was switched off. "Deeks and Callen should be made to dress like that all the time."

"Not a chance – you'd never get any work done and we'd have to get you a drool bib or you'd fry every keyboard in the place."

"I am not drooling."

"Then maybe you want to go see a doctor about that excess saliva problem?"

Kensi pulled back from Louise. "You can let go of me now." This is so not right. She not only looks like Deeks, she kisses like him too.

"Really?" I've been out with a lot of guys who couldn't kiss half as well as Kensi.

"Definitely. Nice work, by the way. You are now officially a decoy."

"And I think my brother is now officially a stud-muffin." Louise looked back at the stage. "I do hope they're getting all this on tape back at the Mission."

"I hope a get a command performance for an audience of one later on." Kensi couldn't help the broad grin that slipped across her face as Edge of Glory began and Deeks clasped his arms behind his head and started to flex those incredible muscles. He looked good and what was more he knew it.

"Kensi – Sam's just reported in that Jennifer is leaving the club."

Okay, so Deeks and Callen were looking good on stage, but down here on the floor, things were starting to look pretty bed. "Tell Sam to follow her. We need to know where she's going."

"Copy that. Sam's ahead of you. And we're tracking her cell phone."

"Ms Blye? Stay in position. Do you understand?" Hetty sounded aggrieved. "I need you in position."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Just in case there were any other eyes on her, Kensi snuggled in to Louise. One more number to go, and then it would be midnight, the show would be over and they could get out of here. But in the meantime, there was no reason why she shouldn't enjoy the show. And boy, there was a lot on show. How come she'd never noticed how sexy a man's stomach could be before? Those muscles underlying the taut flesh, watching the way they rippled and interplayed with one another was positively mesmerising.

"Jolly good." Hetty was beginning to feel twitchy, and that was never a good sign. "Ah, I rather think they're playing my song. She watched as Lady Gaga stared out into the crowd and intoned

_It doesn't matter if you love him, or capital H-I-M  
>Just put your paws up<br>Cause you were born this way, baby._

As she spoke, Callen moved to stand behind Deeks and place both hands on his hips. When Deeks leant back against him, closed his eyes and raised his arms in an attitude of surrender, Callen let his hands move forward to completely cover the gold shorts and Hetty discovered she had quite forgotten to breath.

"Sweet Lord."

"Like what you're seeing, Hetty?" Fraser had spent hours persuading the boys of the necessity of this particular move and finally they'd done it properly. Just watching them nail it reminded Fraser why he loved this job so much.

"What do you think?" There was nothing like deflecting a question with a question.

"I think your boys can dance."

"Thanks to you."

"And their hard work. They look good, don't they?"

Finally, Hetty allowed herself to smile. "They look bloody brilliant, Fraser." And strangely enough, she'd never been prouder of them – what they were doing up there took real guts, but to do it with such soul took more than that – it took artistry. And the next time the team had a night out, she was jolly well insisting that they went out clubbing.

* * *

><p><em>I don't know where randy plot bunny has been, but girl on girl AND boyboy action in one chapter? tut tut. I can see I'm going to have to have a few words with him._


	28. Chapter 28

Finally the music ended and Deeks scanned the club floor quickly, searching amongst the seeing crowd. At last he managed to spot both Kensi and Louise standing with their arms around each other, screaming, applauding and jumping up and down like school-girls, with expressions of pure delight on their faces. He could feel his heart was pounding and thundering inside his chest and sense the blood rushing in his veins;, the sweat was running in rivulets down his body; his ears were ringing; and yet Deeks had never felt more exhilarated or more alive in his entire life. Right now it felt as if he could race up Mount Everest with stopping to draw breath. It was the sheer amount of adrenalin pumping through his body that made him feel invincible, he knew that, but the sensation was incredible. Fraser had been right when he had said that performing gave you a huge high and Deeks could understand why it was so addictive. If this was what it felt like when you were only a backing dancer, he couldn't begin to comprehend how Lady Gaga must feel. The crowd were treating her as if she was beyond mortal, a visitor from some far-distant galaxy – and he could understand why. This was all about her – he had only been the window-dressing, nothing more than some eye-candy with a cute butt. But God, it had been fun. It had been so much fun it was unreal. And then the realisation s hit: this was it. All that hard work had been a means to an end and now it was over. But what an end. What an glorious, amazing, never to be repeated end. What he wouldn't give to live it all over again, just one more time. This was almost better than sex. Not sex with Kensi, of course – because that was in another league altogether. But it was sweet – it was very sweet indeed. And he had done it. He had really done it and nobody could ever take that away from him. No matter what happened, Deeks would always have this memory of one night, when he had stood tall and basked in the affection of the crowd.

"Well?" he mouthed and Kensi flashed one of her incredible smiles, and then put both thumbs up. So that was alright then.

Back at the Mission, Nell stared at the screen in wonder. "I can't believe they danced like that!" That had to be the sexiest thing she'd ever seen. Who would have thought she would get so turned on by Callen and Deeks. Or even Callen and Deeks making out?

"Believe it," Eric advised. "And just to make sure, you can relive it all over again. Copies will be available for your viewing pleasure on disc for the very reasonable price of only…"

"While I hate to tread on the sort of entrepreneurial spirit that made America great, Mr Beale – not on your nelly. Do I make myself clear?" There was no room for either negotiation or manoeuvre when she used that tone of voice, and Eric knew that. However, if she burnt a copy for her own private records, that would be entirely different, Hetty thought.

"As crystal, Hetty." Eric pulled a face. Not only was he working on New Year's Eve, he was stuck in Ops while everyone else was out at one of the hottest clubs in town. And now he couldn't even have a little fun. Still, there was one advantage – one not inconsiderable advantage. He was here with Nell – alone with Nell. This was the chance he'd been waiting for. And it was nearly midnight. Surely she couldn't refuse to kiss him then? Which was less than a minute away. The suspense was killing him.

On stage, Lady Gaga was starting the count-down with Deeks and Callen standing on either side of her, legs apart and clapping their hands above their heads in time as the audience joined in to mark off the last seconds of the old year.

"Happy New Year, Nell." Eric looked at her and smiled. On screen, the crowd were screaming and clapping, kissing anyone within reach, but he only had eyes for one person – and she was standing right next to him.

"Happy New Year." Nell moved closer, intending to kiss Eric on the cheek, but at the last minute he turned his head, so that her lips brushed against his and then hovered there hesitantly. Seizing the moment, she increased the pressure slightly and felt an immediate response as an arm pulled her into an embrace and at last she finally knew the anwer to the question that had been plaguing her for so long: namely what did it feel like to kiss her partner. And the answer was that it felt completely right, so incredibly right that Nell wondered why she had ever doubted herself or Eric. So they didn't have a conventional relationship? Who cared? It was a great big world and there was rom enough for all sorts of people.

"Wow." That kiss had heated up nicely, Eric thought. He wouldn't have been surprised if his glasses had steamed over it was so hot. "Do we get to do that again?"

Nell tilted her head to one side. "I don't know. Why don't we try it again and see?"

It was probably the best start to the New Year ever. And they still had at least thirty minutes before the rest of the team got back. An awful lot could happen in half an hour. As they kissed again, with increased fervour this time, Nell wondered if anyone had ever made love in the Mission before…

* * *

><p>"I don't see why we couldn't have stayed a bit longer," Deeks grumbled. He was still riding high and felt so full of energy that he could have danced for hours longer, maybe even until dawn. With the right person, of course. And he definitely did not include Callen in that simultaneous equation.<p>

"Because we need to go back to the Mission and debrief properly." This was at least the third time Hetty had informed him of this fact and her tone indicated this was the last she wanted to hear of the matter.

"Anyway, if you'd gone out onto the dance floor after that routine, you'd have been debriefed for real." Callen still couldn't get over the way people had stared at them in adulation. If they'd ventured out into the crowd, there was no telling what might have happened. Trust Hetty to go and ruin what could have been a great orgy.

"Spoilsport." Deeks was still sore about the fact that the moment they had come off-stage, Hetty had ushered them out through a side-door and then into a waiting car, without even giving them time to get changed. Kensi and Louise were coming along separately, so he still hadn't been able to talk to her, far less kiss her. That seemed all wrong. You were supposed to kiss a gorgeous woman at the turn of the year. Fair enough, he'd had a pretty decent snog with Lady Gaga, and she'd even caressed his thigh, but she was a superstar and didn't even know his name, so it wasn't quite the same. Besides which, he wanted to kiss Kensi and then pull her into bed and make love for the rest of the night and all of the next day.

"There will be other New Year's Eves, many more of them. And just think what a story you'll have to tell your grandchildren," Hetty said encouragingly. She would have given her eye teeth to have stayed and got down to showing some serious respect for the Gaga, but needs must and the devil was certainly driving in this case.

Deeks and Callen exchanged looks, remembering the finer points of their routine. Homo-erotic was possibly the word, embarrassing in recollection it most definitely was and something they both wanted to forget as soon as possible.

"I don't think so. Not without some heavy editing of the facts. Like how I was dancing with Martine Deeks." Callen emphasised the feminine aspect of the name.

"And you will make sure that the tapes get wiped?" There was no way they wanted that circulating t NCIS agents around the world and then ending up on YouTube.

"I have issued warnings that the severest penalties will result if my edict is disobeyed, I can assure you of that. But you should both be very proud of yourselves. You were sensational – why be modest about it?"

Callen took a look at Deeks sitting next to him, resplendent in his miniscule shorts and burst out laughing. "Deeks? Modest? When he's sitting here beside me, practically naked? You have to be joking."

"May I remind you that I personally chose that outfit?" As a conversation stopper, that was remarkably effective and the resulting silence lasted all the way back to the Mission.

The work of NCIS never stopped, so even in the early hours of the morning there was a small handful of unlucky souls on duty in the Mission when they arrived; those who had drawn the short straw in the holiday lottery and were required to work, rather than be out celebrating with the rest of LA. Their routine, and frankly rather boring, night-shift was considerably enlivened by the arrival of OSP team. Word had clearly got around about the substance of their latest operation, even if the exact details were shrouded in mystery, because the moment Callen and Deeks walked in they were greeted by a slow handclap and a rather decent _a cappella_ version of _Bad Romance._

The temptation to turn and run was immense. On the other hand, if you couldn't beat them, then why not give them a damn good show? What was there to be afraid of when you'd danced with Lady Gaga and got a standing ovation?

"One last time?" Deeks whispered, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Why the hell not?" Callen let the whip crack out across the stone floor and had the immense satisfaction of seeing his colleagues nearly jump out of their skins, while at least two people un-holstered their weapons and then looked suitable mortified. He and Deeks then stalked through the Mission with proud, haughty looks on their faces, wiggling their butts for all they were worth, once again clapping their hands above their heads as Hetty lead the way, solemnly intoning

_Rah, rah, ah, ah, ah  
>Roma, roma, ma<br>Gaga, ooh la la  
>Want your bad romance.<em>

God alone knew what they looked like, but it felt fine.

"I am never going to hear that song again without reliving tonight." Special Agent Janis Watson watched as the team disappeared into Ops and then sat back down at her desk with a huge smile on her face and flicked contentedly through the photographs she'd managed to capture on her phone. These would be worth their weight in gold. And talking of gold, how good did Deeks' butt look in those shorts? Of course, the front view was even better. She enlarged the photo and then oomed in for closer inspection. Oh yes, that was finger-licking good.

* * *

><p>"Champagne? What happened to your rule about no food and drink in Ops, Hetty?"<p>

Sam didn't make it back in until after one in the morning, having followed Jennifer in a cab halfway across LA, only to discover that she was literally reeling when she exited and went straight up to her apartment, presumably to sleep of her excessive intake of alcohol. Unlike her, Sam was stone-cold sober and he drove back to the Mission in a sour mood, only to find the whole team was gathered and waiting for him, complete with champagne. That was strangely touching, but Sam was well-accustomed to hiding his feelings.

"One has to be flexible, Mr Hanna."

Nell cast a covert look at Callen and Deeks and sniggered loudly when Hetty said that. She would never forget the feats of agility they had demonstrated earlier this evening.

Hetty continued as if unaware of the interruption. "There is a scientific principle: 'mutate or vegetate'. I like to think that I can still adapt to changing circumstances. Hence, the champagne. My personal thanks for a job well done under what can only be described as trying circumstances." When it came to survival of the fittest, it was a sure bet that Hetty had been first out of the primordial swamp.

Callen handed his partner the bottle, well-chilled with drops of moisture beading its sides. "How about you show us your wrist action?"

"I trained as a sommelier, G," Sam reminded him, in suitably portentous tones. Good wine deserved proper treatment and vintage champagne definitely deserved respect..

"And you've got the pin in the shape of a corkscrew to prove it: we know. Now just open the damn bottle!"

As befitting a man with considerable experience and expertise, Sam held the cork firmly in his right hand, while his left gently rotated the bottle. There was a muffled explosion and he proudly displayed the cork, held securely in his palm. "And not a drop wasted. That's the way it's done – by the professionals."

Deeks shrugged and held out his glass." That was actually rather anticlimactic. I prefer a bit more explosive action."

"Excuse me if I don't want to take style tips from a man wearing gold boots and shorts. Obscenely short shorts at that." Sam rather wished he and Callen had put on some clothing that actually covered more than five percent of their bodies.

"If you've got it: flaunt it. And anyway, it was Hetty's choice," Deeks reminded him. "And you know how forceful she can be."

"You make it sound as if Hetty personally manhandled you into them, Marty." Louise had positioned herself beside Callen and one hand was resting on his leather-clad butt, while the other clutched the whip possessively.

"A toast – to a very happy and healthy New Year, " Hetty proclaimed. "And to absent friends."

Kensi looked at Macy, who was standing apart from the team, as if in tacit acknowledgment that they had moved on and left her far behind. If the past was really another country, then she was living in some far-distant land, remote and isolated.

"To absent friends." Kensi said softly and lifted her glass in salute. Macy stared back fiercely, her eyes suspiciously bright and determinedly did not look anywhere near Callen and Louise. The truth hurt and while it could not be ignored, she did not need to rub salt into a still-raw wound.

"Tell Nell she's not the first to make love in Ops – not by a long way. Callen and I beat her by years. I wonder if he even remembers?" The bitterness did not conceal the hurt and devastation: that was written clearly on Macy's face and Kensi longed to hug her, to show that someone still cared. And then a familiar voice broke into her thoughts.

"Happy New Year. Here's to us."

She turned away from Macy to find Deeks holding out his glass to hers, with an oddly vulnerable look on his face, as if he was uncertain about what was going to happen next. Kensi was many things: she was brave and feisty, beautiful and daring; she could kick butt with best of them – but she was only human and as susceptible to the charms of a scantily-clad man in the prime of condition as the next sensate woman. This would be like turning down free chocolate – completely insane and out of the question.

"To us," she said quietly. "And to all our tomorrows. Can you do me a favour?"

"For you? Anything."

"I didn't get to dance with you tonight. So how about you show me some of your moves later on? Back at your apartment, when it's just the two of us?"

"That works for me." Deeks swallowed the contents of his glass in one gulp. "Does right now work for you"

"It works perfectly."

2012 looked like it was going to start with a real bang.

* * *

><p><em>Goodness gracious me - no maims! who would credit it? Or should I rephrase that and say 'no maims - yet'?<em>


	29. Chapter 29

"I'll see you in the parking lot," Kensi said in an undertone. "And don't bother to get changed." She felt that it was important to stress that, because she wanted him exactly as he was. Sometimes you had to recognise that it was not possible to improve on perfection; that finally you had exactly what you had been searching for without even realising it.

Fate really did exist, it seemed, influencing your life with stealth, invading every scintilla of your being until everything was changed beyond all recognition. What you thought once was fact, was no longer credible; resistance was not only futile, it had crossed over into the realm of logical impossibility because the compulsion was too strong, too powerful to resist.

Deeks helped himself to another glass of champagne and watched as Kensi said her goodbyes. About five minutes of hanging around should do it, he thought. That would be just long enough to set up a reasonable amount of time and distance, so that they did not arouse any undue suspicions. Although he rather had the feeling that most people were too concerned with their own sex lives to be overly bothered about what he might have planned for the rest of the evening. Nell and Eric seemed to be exercising a powerful new attraction to one another, while the sparks between his sister and Callen rivalled any firework display.

"Happy New year, sis." Judging by the exuberant way Louise flung her arms around him, the champagne had gone her head. Either that or she was totally loved-up. Deeks saw the way she was absent-mindedly fondling the whip and decided that it might very well be the latter.

"Happy New Year!" Louise bent her head towards his ear. "I don't think I'll be home tonight."

"Really?" It was an effort, but he managed to sound suitably surprised and marginally disappointed. "Oh well, you have a good time."

"Oh, I intend to." Louise let herself fall back into Callen's waiting arms, and he responded by briefly burying his face in her hair.

Deeks gave Callen a searching look. "You look after my sister."

For a split second, Callen was propelled back through time, travelling across the years so that once again he was standing awkwardly on the threshold of a house, waiting for his date for the prom to come downstairs, while her father eye-balled him, with unveiled threats evident in every single ounce of his not inconsiderable body weight. _You look after my little girl. And you treat her with respect._ Now, as was the case back then, this was a command, not a request.

"You know I will."

Blue eyes met blue eyes: eyes as blue and as deep and as fathomless as the seven seas met and engaged, recognising ultimately a mutuality of purpose and a shared concern born out of love.

"You make sure you do."

Watching, Macy wondered if Callen had ever felt this urge to protect her, or if her own vehement independence had only served to quell such impulses and stifle them before they could ever reach fruition. Oh, for the chance to go back again and do things differently, to cheat fate and run once again towards the limitless sunlight, knowing that she would surely stay young and vital forever, that together she and Callen could beat everything. How stupid she had been, how utterly careless of both her life and her love, thinking that each would last forever, for old age was something that happened to other people and death was unthinkable.

But life did not work like that, and Macy knew her own life, and especially the leaving of it, had been the living exemplar of the phrase 'nasty, brutal and short'. Beside which, once you were dead, all the rules were meaningless because existence ceased to have any meaning at all, and life was something that applied to other people, while you were merely an observer, standing on the sidelines and thinking about how very much better things were done in your day. Life really was wasted on those with a beating pulse, for they had no conception of just how fragile, transient and bloody amazing it was. Oh, for the brief chance to do things differently.

"Treasure every moment, Louise. Take nothing for granted and remember how very special he is. Callen deserves to be loved."

There was nobody here to listen, but that did not matter. What was important was that it was time to let go and let Callen move on. Macy stood beside her lover, who she would never cease to adore, and let her lips breeze across his cheek in the fragrant memory of a kiss. Reflexively, he raised his hand at the faint sensation and Macy felt it pass straight through her, with no tangible sensation at all. That was when she realised that it was over, there was no going back or retracing time. What they had once had was now only a memory, with no root in reality. It was gone and only the faintest trace was left, embedded only in their minds. Soon even that would no longer exist.

"I'll always love you." Whatever that meant. It was a neat conundrum and one which could task the keenest philosophical minds: if love, true love, could only exist when it was reciprocated and returned, then logically love had to cease upon death. So why did it still hurt so much? If death meant the end of everything, then why did Macy feel as if she was dying all over again as she watched Callen and Louise walk out together, looking complete, happy and secure?

Enough was enough. Macy lifted her face heavenwards. "Can we stop this right now? Please? Because I've done what you asked of me. I've done everything and more. But it isn't fun anymore."

Nobody was listening, because nothing changed. The world was still turning; Callen still had Louise pulled close to him as the doors shut behind them; and she was still here on earth and still dead. Maybe this was purgatory, but then again, perhaps this was hell. Macy found she wold welcome another death. With any luck, this one would be permanent.

* * *

><p>"So. Here we are." Kensi pulled off her shoes and settled herself cross-legged on the sofa with an expectant look on her face. The long, slow build-up to this moment had coalesced and resolved itself into reality. The burning urgency that consumed her was about to ignite, at which point she would not be responsible for her actions.<p>

"Here we are." He'd just performed in front of a packed house, so why did was he suddenly nervous about dancing in for an audience of one? Especially when that singular spectator was Kensi, who only hours ago had been taking him to heights he had never dreamt of and screaming her passion so that the walls had echoed her desire. Deeks shuffled nervously from one foot to the other and wished fervently he was wearing slightly more in the way of clothing.

"You said you'd dance for me." The room seemed devoid of air, so Kensi unbuttoned her tuxedo jacket and slipped it off, so that it fell down in a slithering shudder of silk.

He'd been right about that camisole: it was made of lace – _café au lait_ lace, fine, sheer and diaphanous, and underneath the lace there was nothing but Kensi, her tawny skin glowing in the translucent night. It was a sight to behold and Deeks suddenly felt a whole lot better about life in general.

"I can read you like a book, Deeks." You didn't have to be a mind reader to translate the emotions flickering across his face, crackling fire in those blue eyes or indeed arising from his body. Kensi sat up a little straighter, reached into a pocket and tossed across her IPod. "How about you put this on and then dance for me?" She had the ideal song, all cued up and ready to play. "

Deeks looked at the screen and his lips curved into the grin that haunted her dreams. "Really?"

"Oh yes. Really. Really and truly." It was the soundtrack to her inner fantasies, every word relevant and appropriate and with a hard grinding beat. It would be interesting to see what he made of this.

"It's not exactly subtle."

"Which makes it ideal." Subtle and Deeks were diametrically opposed, after all. And then Kensi caught herself: that was the public persona, and she was beginning to understand the real man behind the projected image. "Tonight isn't about subtlety. We can leave that for another time."

She thought about the song and realised that subtlety was not her strong suit either. Quite the reverse. Denial: well, that was different, Kensi had denial down to a fine art. But denial was gone, thrown into the maelstrom of emotions that were swirling around in a sexual miasma so thick it was palpable. That song summed everything up perfectly. Atomic. Yes, this was explosive. So the first line begged him to 'make her tonight': well that was fine. There was only so long she could sit here and not fling herself bodily upon him and rip those shorts off with her teeth and her patience was almost frayed into oblivion. It would be good if the rest of her mind could join it in that happy state of blissful nirvana.

Deeks no need to ask what tonight was about, because he already knew. Tonight was about making it right, making it magnificent. This was solely about the here and now, the immediate present: nothing else was relevant, except for the fact that they were here and they were together. Everything else was irrelevant. Tonight was about the future, it was about everything.

And then the music started, and in that moment everything changed, so that Deeks found himself back into that zone, the one where he held all the power. And by the transfixed look in Kensi's eyes, the magic was still there. It was a great song after all, and easy to dance to, with a pulsating beat that seemed perfect for pacing towards her, tilting his pelvis first to one side and then the other, before taking a step back, turning to one side and walking away, letting his butt wiggle for all he was worth. _Atomic_ – oh yes, this song was all about power and it was giving him that power to contain and radiate. The beat grew faster and more frenetic. He stuck a pose, standing with legs braced and one hand slithering diagonally from shoulder to hip, all the while staring at her directly, never letting his gaze drop for one second.

"Come here." Kensi was sitting right on the edge of the sofa now, reaching out to him, but Deeks just shook his head, even as Debbie Harry informed the world about how beautiful his hair was.

This was insane. She'd danced to this song a hundred times and found it addictive. But this was like mainlining. The room was in semi-darkness and all Kensi could see was a kaleidoscopic variety of shades of tawny gold as Deeks danced: his skin, those boots, the micro-shorts and that tousled mop of hair were all combining to create a medley of fascinating temptation as the vivid blue of his eyes seemed to stare directly into her core.

So she would have to make the first move. Kensi stood up and swayed sensuously across the floor, hooking her pinky finger in the waistband of those shorts. "I said, come here." Her voice was strong and sure, clear and certain.

"How about you make me?"

How was that for an offer she could not refuse? Kensi let her pinky finger remained exactly where it was, and was joined by the rest of her fingers, which slowly insinuated themselves between the golden material and the equally golden skin. In that instant, Deeks found that he was no longer able to dance, because he was too busy kissing Kensi, kissing her mouth, her neck, and then the strong line of her collar bone: pushing aside the fragile straps of the camisole so that he could kiss the gentle swell of her breasts. His hands were clasped around her waist and Kensi was leaning backwards, arching her back and pushing down the camisole, almost willing him to devour her.

"Want to hear my new year's resolution?" Deeks was bending forward, leaning above her, so that his mouth was close to her ear and she could feel the rush of his breath against her skin

Kensi felt a shivery of expectation run down the entire length of her spine, so that even her toes seemed to tingle with pleasure. "Tell me."

They were moving together in time to the music, slow rotations of their hips, achingly grinding against one another as their bodies maintained maximum contact at all times.

Whither thou goest, I will go… even unto the ends of the earth or eternity, for life is just a brief speck in the cosmos and there is no meaning except in the immediacy.

"I'm going to make love to you every single day." The flickering point of his tongue ran languidly around the outer rim of her ear and Kensi felt her insides crumble.

"And can I make love to you every night?"

"You can do anything you want." She'd always had that power over him, Deeks realised, the ability to reach out to his soul with a smile.

In the dark night sky, it matters not that the stars we see are already dead and it is merely the faint remnants of their former glory that transpose across time, for that bridge across space crosses the void that exists all around each one of us. Too often lives are lived in isolation and love withers fruitlessly. But sometimes serendipity intervenes, wrongs are righted and what should be comes to pass, just as it should, were the world beautiful, perfect and just. One short week ago, things had been very different and there was no possibility that Kensi would have given any credence to the possibility of letting her naked body skim across the crisp cotton sheets of Deeks' bed while he reared above her and then froze motionless, head raised up and eyes closed in fierce, rapt concentration before relaxing into boneless submission, all his frantic energy and depthless passion spent, finally subsiding to lie tenderly along her length

As the silver moonshine played upon his hair, turning them into luminous opalescence, Kensi let her fingers entwine among the tumbled locks, and wondered what she had ever done to inspire such passion. Somewhere along the line, she must have done something amazing.

"I want to be with you," she whispered, once she was certain that he was asleep. "I want to be with you, night and day." It wasn't that much to ask for, was it? After all, it was New Year's day and a whole new world of possibilities had just opened up.

* * *

><p><em>That song Kensi chose is (of course) Atomic, by Blondie. Ain't that apt? the plot bunnies and I had a lovely boogie to it earlier tonight, while the dog looked on in disgust. He's like Kensi and prefers Michael Buble. There's simply no accounting for taste. My taste, of course, is impeccable - Deeks, preferably naked and lightly maimed.<em>


	30. Chapter 30

It was a new day, the sun shining with pale winter brightness in an un-obscured sky as the gulls wheeled lazily overhead. A new day, the first day of the new year and as full of unwritten promise as any unopened gift. However, for those who had the misfortune to work in the NCIS Office of Special Projects, it was just another working day, regardless of what the calendar said.

"Your house is…" Louise searched for the right word. "Unencumbered." Bare, completely devoid of any character might have been more accurate. There was no way a casual observer could begin to glean any aspect of Callen's complex character from looking at his living space. The sheer absence of almost anything was beginning to worry her. He didn't even have a decent coffee-maker, which was surely the first thing any normal person would buy – or was that just if you were a Brandel or even a Deeks? It made breakfast something less than pleasurable, that was for sure, when you had to go out for coffee, rather than drinking it in bed like any civilised human being.

"Minimal?" Callen suggested. He had a bed (king size, memory-foam mattress , with down pillows and Egyptian cotton sheets), a black leather recliner and matching sofa, plus the obligatory wide-screen tv. The kitchen had come fully-kitted out, as had the bathroom, so there was no need to add any extraneous items. As far as he was concerned, he had all the essential requirements for pared-down, effective living.

"Don't you read?" Louise's own apartment was coming down with books: neatly sitting in custom-made shelving, plus the obligatory piles on the coffee table, beside the bed, left open in her favourite chair. Books, CDs and DVD vied for supremacy on her shelves, along with treasured photographs and assorted mementos from over thirty years of living life to the full.

"Not really. I do enough of that at work. When I come home, I just want to relax." If Callen wanted to read, then _Sports Illustrated_ fitted the bill nicely, and once he was finished, it went straight into the recycling bins, along with his beer bottles. Callen didn't produce a whole lot in the way of trash, but he was fanatical about recycling. Possessions, in his view, did not define a person, they merely tied you down and cluttered up the place.

"Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with your place, it's just kind of impersonal. Like you could walk out at any minute and never come back, leaving everything behind with no regrets."

Callen smiled at her. "That's exactly it. That's what I like about it." Ties of any sort, be they physical or emotional, had never been a prominent feature of his life and he'd managed just fine without them. Sure, there were some things he missed not having a permanent reminder of: whole parts of his life that had disappeared without leaving any tangible evidence of. But he had his memories, sacrosanct and inviolate. There was just one problem with that though– those memories were starting to become fainter with time and one day Callen feared they might slip out of his grasp forever. He should have been more careful, stored up something more permanent, as an insurance policy. It was only know that Callen realised that he had not one single thing to remind him of all the time he had spent with Macy, all the love they had shared and thought would never end. For months after she vanished, Callen would walk past a woman wearing the same perfume that Macy had favoured and faint, evocative scent would produce a cornucopia of memories and sensory experiences. But it had been a long time since that had happened. Yet another tiny part of Macy had vanished and soon there would nothing left at all to remind him. Would it be very sad to go to a perfume counter in a store and try to recapture just a tiny part of her?

"I could understand that, if you were just starting out, with lots of things to do and places to go. But aren't you tired of being a nomad? Where are the memories – the photographs, the shells you picked up on a beach – all the things that make you the person you are today?" He ddin't even have a fridge magnet, for crying out loud.

He shrugged. "I am who I am." Whoever that person was. Callen, G. Just an initial. Nothing but the bare essentials. No living relatives (as far as he knew), only fleeting memories of his mother and sister. He didn't seem to be very much, if that was the criteria by which you judged a life.

"Ever thought you could be someone different? You could have been anyone you wanted to be – and you still can." Louise cajoled. She could see the sadness that imbued Callen and wanted to try to make a difference, to show him that the past need not influence every single nuance of the present and that the future could be anything you wished.

She had a point, a very good point. He'd been running from any sort of commitment for so long now, it had become an engrained habit, so that Callen was accustomed to defining himself by reference to all the negative factors, rather than aligning with what was positive, directing his focus in all the wrong directions. And this was a brand new year, full of promises. What better time to change, stop looking backwards and start to move forward?

"So where should I start?"

"Where do you want to start?" Louise was not going to give him any hints: this was a decision he had to make by himself.

"I guess it would be good to have a photograph. Of us. Together. Maybe in a frame?" It was time he had something decent to put on the mantleshelf in his front room, after all. Like normal people did – something that bound him to a specific time and place, and with a specific person.

It was a tiny step, but it was a step in the right direction, a small footing that could expand into a solid foundation, which in turn could be built upon, Louise thought. "That sounds good. Any chance I could get a copy?" They lived on opposite sides of the country, in different time zones. They lived completely different lives and it was completely mad to think this could possibly work, but they could have fun trying.

"Sure you could." She could have anything she wanted – up to and including living in the same city as her brother. Callen realised that the time for standing on the side-lines and watching other people live their lives was over and it was time to join the human race, make those commitments and allow himself to love freely.

* * *

><p>Hetty looked spic and span, but then she was practically the living definition of the phrase. It was inconceivable that there might come a time when Hetty was not immaculately turned out. The rest of the team were in various states of dishevelment and Eric looked especially bleary-eyed. Even Nell was noticeably less perky than usual, and was choosing to lurk as unobtrusively as possible in a corner of Ops, rather than her normal position, which was firmly front and centre.<p>

"We need to talk about what happened last night," Hetty said and had the satisfaction of seeing five people give guilty starts. Ah, how she loved to be able to wrong-foot these young people. It showed there was life in the old girl yet. And the evil pleasure she derived from that was oddly satisfying. No, truth be told (and Hetty always tried to honest when analysing her own motives), it she got one hell of a kick out of it. She did it because she could and because she knew the reaction she would get was too good to resist.

"Nothing happened," Deeks said quickly, perhaps a little too quickly, he thought in retrospect. After all, he was a grown man, he was single and what he did on his own time was own business – wasn't it? And Hetty had given him tacit permission – even if she had banned him from sex the night before this operation – an order he had conveniently ignored.

"Exactly. Which was rather disappointing. However, one can take solace in the knowledge that you and Mr Callen danced your cotton socks off." Now she came to think about it, Hetty wasn't entirely sure that they had been wearing socks. No matter.

"I'm pretty sure Jennifer recognised Deeks – or should I say 'Dave'?" Eric cued up the recording taken from the club's security cameras, and pulled the shot into tight focus, showing Jennifer watching closely as Callen flicked the whip lazily, letting Deeks take hold of one end and then spin towards him, wrapping the slim black leather strand around and around his body until he was completely fettered. Jennifer certainly seemed to have a reaction that could not wholly be accredited to titillation. A look of what could only be realisation spread across her face,

"Okay, I think we've all got the picture." Callen knew exactly what happened next in the routine and was certain that neither he or Deeks wished to watch their x-rated performance whilst in the company of their colleagues.

"There's more." Eric knew exactly what happened next in that dance, having viewed it no less than seven times, just to make sure it was as outrageous as he thought it was. "The gallery is shut today, and yet Jennifer let herself into the premises over an hour ago."

He cued in footage taken from surveillance cameras, which showed Jennifer looking particularly furtive, with a headscarf and dark glasses, trying to slip in as unobtrusively as possible. Unfortunately, she fumbled with her keys, dropping them on the ground before finally managing to open the door.

"I bet she had fun trying to switch the alarm system off." Sam suspected that the sunglasses were not just to hide her identity: Jennifer was exhibiting all the signs of having a killer hangover.

"How about Katie drops her text and asks to meet – because Dave spotted Jennifer at the club? And now she's desperate to make sure Jennifer doesn't say anything?" Kensi suggested. "She's already shown she's sympathetic, and if I confide in her, there's a chance she could reveal some information that might let us crack this case open."

"So you're playing the desperate, deluded girlfriend, completely in denial and appealing to her better nature? It could work." Callen considered the alternatives and decided there really weren't any. "Let's go with it. And while the gallery is just about deserted, let's see what Colter's got hidden away on his computer files." So far, they'd been unable to hack in externally, so a direct uplink to enable remote access was the only option.

"I could do that." It would be child's play to come up with some story that got her into Colter's office, Kensi thought.

"And I'll pace up and down outside, looking moody and chewing my fingernails?" Deeks suggested cheerfully. "Just to make Jennifer feel that little bit more like helping you."

"I'm afraid that won't be possibly, Mr Deeks. LAPD have requested that you attend a meeting at headquarters. One pm sharp."

"Seriously? While we're in the middle of an op?"

"Believe me, I am no more enamoured by the prospect than you are." Hetty's mouth was clamped shut in a firmly disapproving line. "However, I had no choice but to agree – as you are merely on loan to us as liaison." She looked at him searchingly and Deeks returned the stare with wide-eyed blandness.

"There is that."

"We need to get something sorted out," Sam said. "We can't have LAPD affecting our operational effectiveness."

"Is that your way of saying you need me, Sam?" Deeks gave him an ingratiating smile.

"Can I help it if sometimes an operation calls for a dumb blond?" he countered.

"And here I was hoping that your New Year's resolution was to be nicer to me."

"Not a chance. I don't believe in resolutions. If you don't like something, Deeks – then change it. If it's in your power to change. And if you've got the guts. It's really quite simple."

Deeks blinked in astonishment as that verbal hit registered. "Or I could just go back to LAPD full-time and let you get in some other fair-haired idiot," he said mildly. "I'm sure they're just lining up around the block to be the fall-guy on the team." He flashed a quick smile, one that had no warmth or sincerity and walked out of Ops without looking back.

"Was that really necessary?" Kensi asked, trying to keep the anger she felt bubbling away inside herself at bay. That jibe had centred true and direct, and she had seen how rocked Deeks was. It was disconcerting to discover that she also felt his hurt quite so deeply.

"I wouldn't have said it if it wasn't. Deeks needs to make his mind up – is he a cop, or is he an agent?"

"Who said that he can't be both?" Callen turned to his partner. "It's not a question of 'is he with us or against us', is it? Has Deeks ever given you any reason to think he isn't 100% committed to this team?"

"You know he hasn't." Deeks had even come out to Romania with them, without a second thought.

"We all answer to someone in placed in authority over us," Hetty reminded him. "And that includes me."

Sam began to feel that he was getting it on all sides. This was like walking into a den of hungry tigers, all of them prowling around him with their tails held high in the air and licking their chops in anticipation. "I want Deeks to be a permanent part of the team, no questions asked, okay? He's one of us – he needs us."

Kensi took up the cudgels. "And we need him?"

Now these tigers had surrounded him and were backing him into a corner. "And we need him." Sam shook his head in disbelief. "All right, I said it. And you all heard it. But it doesn't go outside these four walls. And if anyone – and I mean anyone," he spun around to make sure that Nell and Eric knew they were included in this statement, "If anyone tells Deeks what I said, I will personally make sure they regret that." Just to make sure, he cracked his knuckles for emphasis.

"Because you want to tell him yourself, don't you Mr Hanna? You don't wish anyone else to steal your thunder."

"Something like that, Hetty." God, she was good. She never missed a trick. Not one. Not that he would have expected anything less.

"I'm not feeling the love, Sam."

"Maybe he's saving it up for Deeks? Going to give him a big hug later on?" And that seemed the ideal time to go and change into her gallery outfit, Kensi thought, watching as Sam choked down all manner of retorts, mainly because Hetty was standing right in front of him, with a resolute expression on her face.

"I'll be sure to get a photo," Callen assured her. That would certainly be one for the album. And then maybe later on he would have a chat with Louise, and get her to beat some sense into her stubborn brother's head so that he finally signed the papers and joined NCIS properly. Deeks was an integral part of the team, just as much as he, Sam and Kensi were, and he knew that – didn't he? Deeks was well-aware of how valuable he was to them – wasn't he?

* * *

><p>"Jennifer?" Kensi knocked again on the glass door, which was firmly locked. From the outside, the gallery looked completely deserted, just like all the other units in the street.<p>

"Try again." Callen was lounging against the Challenger, a beanie pulled down almost to his eyebrows, arms crossed and a pissed expression on his face.

"Jennifer? It's Katie here." She thumped the door a little harder this time, which had the result of bringing Jennifer running to the door.

"Katie – I got your text. Why did you want to meet here?" Pulling the door open, Jennifer let her in, and saw Callen, who glowered menacingly at her.

"I didn't know where else to suggest." Kensi found that Jennifer almost yanked her into the gallery, and then looked anxiously up and down the street, before locking the door and pulling down the blind, just for good measure. "It's Dave, you see."

"Surprise me." Jennifer crossed her arms and tapped her foot. "Katie – you're a bright, beautiful woman. Why are you wasting your time on a loser like that?"

"Because I love him. And I need your help. I don't know who else to turn to, and you were so kind the other day."

"Do you need somewhere to stay?"

Kensi could see that Jennifer's hard-line stance was weakening. "No, not that. But you see, Dave has this job, and it's kind of sensitive. It's not something he'd want people to know about."

"He dances in a gay club. With that guy out there. I know – I saw them last night." She'd seen an awful lot of Dave and his partner last night, Jennifer thought smugly. It was clear that poor Katie had no idea what they got up to.

"Dave said he thought you'd recognised him. It doesn't mean anything, you know. He's not like that."

"Katie – you've got to grow up and accept what's right in front of you. I'm sorry, but your boyfriend is a racist thug, who beats you up and is a closet gay. Believe me, you'll all be a lot happier if he just accepts that fact and starts to live a real life instead of hiding who he really is."

She was beginning to develop a lot of respect for Jennifer, Kensi realised. The woman talked straight and she talked a lot of sense into the bargain. This was going to be as easy as pie. Female solidarity would ensure that. "It's worse than that – Mr Colter knows about Dave too and he's blackmailing me. There's something going on in this gallery, and he's trying to get me involved in it. Or Dave will get hurt. I don't know what to do and you're the only person who can help me." Sniffing dreadfully, Kensi fell forward into the other woman's arms.

"Oh Katie," Jennifer crooned, and rubbed her back soothingly. "Poor, silly little Katie. I'm afraid you really don't know what's you've got yourself mixed up in. I told you that you should have got away from Dave. If only you'd listened to me, then none of this need have happened."

The arms that had been hugging her sympathetically just a few seconds ago were now tightening like vises around her and Jennifer's nails were digging painfully into Kensi's neck. "You've really only got yourself to blame, you know." She increased the pressure around Kensi's windpipe now. "Please don't make things difficult."


	31. Chapter 31

Difficult? This stupid woman thought this pathetic attempt at a stranglehold constituted 'difficult'? Had things been slightly different, Kensi would have laughed. As it was, she was merely thoroughly discomfitted. Which was only a polite way of saying that she was as mad as hell. And that was a mistake – a big mistake. Because an angry Kensi was a lethal Kensi.

"I'll show you difficult."

It was a promise. This was what Kensi did: what she was paid to do and what she was trained to do. This was merely routine, something she had practised so many times that it was so deeply engrained that she hardly had to think about it. She eased into position as smoothly as butter running down a stack of hot pancakes, adjusting her centre of balance. She'd given a clear warning and Jennifer had the opportunity to let her hands drop free from Kensi's neck, and then it would be a simple matter of twisting her into an arm-lock, slapping the handcuffs on and calling Callen in to take her off to the boatshed for a more formal interview, under due caution. Unfortunately, Jennifer chose to tighten her grip (which was technically all wrong anyway, being more irritating than deadly, as Kensi had immediately realised) and in that moment she wrote her own destiny, in large block capitals, with an indelible marker. Which was Jennifer's second mistake.

The next moves weren't difficult, on the contrary, they were exceedingly simple: if you had years of training in various disciplines; if you were exceptionally strong and fit and if you were not averse to using a fair amount of brute force. Kensi was all of the above and neutralising the threat posed was simplicity itself. She launched into action without warning, moving in a blur of motion, almost as if this was a choreographed and carefully rehearsed routine that left Jennifer without a single defence. Kensi jabbed her right elbow sharply underneath Jennifer's ribs, hearing the breath leave the other woman's body with a satisfying loud whoosh of air, while at the same time she stepped backwards, placing the ball of her foot upon Jennifer's instep and then applying her full body weight. By now, those grasping fingers had dropped away from her neck, but just to be on the safe side, Kensi pulled free and then jerked her head backwards, connecting heavily with Jennifer's forehead.

"Seriously? That was the best you could do?" Good grief. That sounded like exactly the sort of thing Deeks would say. He was obviously having a subliminal effect on her, creeping into every fibre of her being. Kensi found that she didn't object in the slightest.

The combined effect of the assault, minimal though it had been by Kensi's standards, was to send Jennifer first reeling backwards from the volley of pain, and then crumpling over protectively. Finally she dropped to the floor, crouched over as she sought to protect herself from further attack. Under the circumstances, Kensi thought she had been rather restrained, getting out of the situation with the minimum amount of force. Jennifer would be fine – eventually. The resulting injuries should heal up in a couple of weeks. Three at the outside. They didn't call her 'kick-ass Kensi' for nothing.

With one hand, Kensi reached for her ID, while with the other Kensi retrieved her gun. Once Jennifer was safely confined, she could plug in the thumb drive and leave all the rest in Eric's capable hands. She flashed her ID. "NCIS – federal agent. Don't even think about doing anything stupid."

"Stupid?" Jennifer hissed, kneeling on the floor, her eyes ablaze with impotent fury. "Do I look stupid?"

There was only one possible answer to that, given their relative positions, but Kensi decided not to add fuel to the fire. Jennifer had done a pretty decent job all by herself of building her own funeral pyre, but now she wanted to actually strike the match and just invite conflagration? Fine, then on her own head be it. However, she wasn't going to take any chance, so Kensi pulled out the handcuffs, the sooner Jennifer was properly incapacitated, the better. Bending down to snap on the cuffs, Kensi was momentarily, blindsided when Jennifer's arm shot out to grab a ceramic figurine standing on a low plinth, holding it by its etiolated legs and then swung the thing up like a kettle-ball. Out of her peripheral vision, Kensi could see the statuette swinging towards her and instinctively she turned her body, raising one shoulder in an attempt to shield her head from the impact that had to come.

This is going to hurt, Kensi thought, while forcing the handcuff on to Jennifer's wrist and hearing it close as the ratchets engaged. Come what may, whether she was conscious or unconscious, one thing was sure: she was not letting this bitch get out of here. In a blisteringly fast action, she secured the other cuff around her own wrist, just before terminal impact.

That initial assessment had been one hundred per cent correct. It did hurt. It felt like a nuclear bomb had just exploded right on top of her head, sending a shockwave of agony. The pain was immense, not only from the blow, but because the solid material exploded into smithereens when it collided with Kensi's skull. The ripples of agony seemed to radiate out from the initial point of impact and the world took on an unearthly red glow. Fragments of pottery flew outwards in a wide radius and Kensi was fairly certain that a good number were embedded in her scalp, judging from the warm, stickily-wet sensation of blood running down her face. The remainder of the once-valuable artwork remained in Jennifer's hand: two foreshortened legs on a sharply angled base that could easily take an eye out. And judging from the way the maddened woman was wielding her weapon, she would have no compunction in smashing the base straight into Kensi's face.

"Bitch."

The word seeped out through Jennifer's clenched teeth and Kensi knew she had to stop this attack using whatever force was necessary. This was neither the time nor the place for subtle diplomacy, even had she been so inclined. Still in her semi-crouched position, Kensi braced one leg, bent her other and then powered her knee forward, relishing the impact it made into the base of the woman's skull, propelling Jennifer forwards so that she crashed into a prone position.

"Don't trust her an inch!" Macy was screaming in the background. Somehow, Kensi might have known she would turn up eventually, because she always did. Why hadn't she appeared up a couple of minutes earlier, issued a timely warning and saved her from what felt like a six inch gash in her head? Macy's timing definitely left a lot to be desired. In fact, as a guardian angel, she sucked. They were going to have to a conversation about that some day soon.

"Wasn't going to, Macy." Kensi decided to make sure Jennifer didn't try anything so stupid again. The next time and she might actually hurt herself.

"You want to try that again, Jennifer?" she invited, but as she now had her foot jammed into the intersection between Jennifer's arm and shoulder, and she was applying counter-traction to that arm, forcing the fingers back as she jerked the limb to its fullest extent, the other woman was unable to answer.

Jennifer made her third and final mistake by thrashing wildly about, trying to kick Kensi's increasingly unsteady legs out from underneath her, giving her captor no choice but to increase the pressure. The resultant scream that emerged from Jennifer's lips as Kensi forced ligaments and sinews to their ultimate limit would have done any banshee proud, but she still struggled. Knowing she had to be careful, because too much more pressure would cause the head of the humerus to separate completely from the shoulder capsule in a complete dislocation, Kensi ground her foot fractionally further in, applied a fraction more pressure and Jennifer finally stopped struggling.

"Thought not." Kensi reversed the hold into a more conventional arm lock, putting one knee in the centre of Jennifer's back, trying to convince the world to stay in focus and using her free arm to swipe away the blood that was trickling down her face. She had just got her captive firmly contained and switched the handcuffs around so that Jennifer's wrists were bound securely together, when a missile came flying through the plate glass gallery door, followed closely behind by Callen, one arm across his eyes to protect them from any stray shards of glass.

"What kept you so long?" It had to be all of forty seconds since Jennifer launched her attack. The old guy was starting to slow down.

"Chalk it down to being the morning after the night before," Callen said grimly, making an immediate assessment of the scene and not liking what he saw. Kensi had a dazed expression on her face, which was a mask of scarlet blood. "Eric? We're going to need paramedics here."

Kensi shook her head automatically at this pronouncement, and instantly regretted the action, as the world started swimming about in a highly disconcerting fashion. "I'm fine." Her knees seemed unable to take her weight any longer and Kensi found herself subsiding down onto the floor. The pain in her head was making it almost impossible to think straight and it was building up to a point where it was becoming unbearable. She lay down and curled up, breathing deeply in an attempt to make it all go away. If she could just focus, she would be fine, but her mind refused to co-operate. It was beginning to look as if Jennifer had done a serious amount of damage, she thought. And Deeks was going to be so mad. Kensi was suddenly aware that she wanted Deeks badly, just wanted to have him beside her, holding her hand and telling her she would be alright.

"You are not fine." Macy's face was extremely close to her, but it was refusing to stay in focus, and there was an unholy pounding in her head that was starting to make Kensi feel as if she might throw up at any minute.

"Macy? I don't feel so good." There was no sense in trying to deny it any longer, because now reality was fast starting to fade away and Kensi felt as if she was clinging onto consciousness by her fingertips alone. "Macy?"

"I'm right here. Don't worry." She couldn't see her anymore, because she couldn't see anything but Macy's voice sounded as if it was right inside her head. "Everything's fine. Callen will look after you. But I've got to go now. I'm sorry, Kensi. I'm so sorry. I wish things could have been different."

It all sounded terribly final, Kensi thought, trying to pull the ragged remnants of her mind into some sort of order. She had to concentrate – concentrate on what Macy was saying and concentrate on not passing out. "Macy – don't go." She still had so many things she needed to say to her friend, because she'd never had a friend like Macy.

"Tell Callen I'll always love him, but he needs to go forward with no regrets. Tell him that he's got to love like he's never been hurt and he's got to live like it's heaven on earth. Remember that, Kensi. I'm relying on you."

And then there was silence. Macy's voice was gone and the whole world was resolving itself into a giddy array of swirling black and red. Kensi let her head drop down onto the floor and was only tangentially aware of Callen shouting something. Nothing seemed to make any sense and there was no other option but to simply let go and drift peacefully away.

Afterwards, long afterwards when he could finally talk objectively about this nightmare series of events, Callen would rate that as one of the worst moments of his life: dropping to his knees on the floor beside Kensi and watching her eyes go glassy. In the distance, he could hear the screaming tones of the ambulance, but he did not dare to leave her side, or to let go of her hand.

"Don't do this to me," he muttered, and searched around for something he could press against her head to try to quench the blood flow. There was entirely too much blood, Callen thought. Of course, he knew that head wounds always bled a lot, but even so, this seemed excessive. Kensi's long, thick hair appeared to be saturated in viscous blood, there was a darkly shining puddle collecting on the floor beside her and even his own hands were completely covered in blood: Kensi's blood. Her warm blood was coating his hands like some obscene parody of a pair of gloves

"Kensi? Listen to me, Kensi – don't do this. Stay with me."

She looked up at him, eyes blank with incomprehension. "Bye Macy. I'll tell Callen." Kensi blinked slowly, and a look of utter confusion swept across her face for just a second before her eyes rolled back so that only the whites were showing and her whole body went limp and unresistant in his arms.

Oh shit, this was really bad, Callen thought. Watching Kensi pass out on him while she mumbled incoherently about his long-dead lover and feeling utterly helpless was not what was supposed to happen. This was meant to be a simple in-and-out job, nothing complicated. A little schmoozing, some girly confidences exchanged, maybe a hug – and then into the office and onto the PC. Simple. That was what was supposed to happen, not Kensi being battered over the head.

The paramedics just seemed to appear on the scene soundlessly: one minute Callen was completely alone, the next two guys in jumpsuits were elbowing him out of the way, seemingly materialising out of the ether, like they could move soundlessly like those vampires on that show Louise had made him watch one night. The very hot vampires who had even hotter sex. That had always seemed like a logical impossibility, but it had kind of turned him on, so Callen did not complain overly.

Oh Christ, this was bad. He was rambling, that was how bad it was. And Kensi – Kensi was just lying there, while the paramedics fitted a cervical collar around her neck, slipped an oxygen mask over her face, while all Callen could think about was that it wasn't supposed to be like this.

* * *

><p><em>Oh dear, evil plot bunny has returned with a vengeance. He really seems to have it in for Kensi in this story.<em>


	32. Chapter 32

_Oh dear, evil plot bunny has clearly become rather frustrated at his long period of inactivity..._

* * *

><p>"How bad is it?" Because it looked really bad. They were putting Kensi onto a backboard now, and that was never a good sign.<p>

The paramedic turned to look at him. "Your friend has a significant head injury. We're supporting her with oxygen, but she needs urgent medical treatment."

"I can see that," Callen said through gritted teeth. You hardly needed to be a paramedic to work that one out – all you had to do was to look at the gash in Kensi's head, and the fact she was soaked in her own blood. He pulled out his ID. "She's a federal agent – and so I am I."

"That doesn't make any difference to me. We treat the injury – that's it." Federal agent or some bum down on his or her luck, the injury had to take priority. Who the person was became merely incidental. The paramedics scooped them up, stabilised them and then tried to deliver them to hospital while they were still alive.

"She puts her life on the line, day in and day out." Callen tried to control his anger, but was not entirely successful.

"And we do the same, buddy." The paramedic had seen more of his share of gun battles between gang bangers, had suffered knives held against his throat, had missiles aimed at him: he knew the score and still he kept turning up for duty. He put his hand on Callen's arm. "Like I told you: we don't discriminate."

Callen flung off the hand. "I am not asking you to discriminate – I am asking you to recognise who she is and make sure she gets the very best treatment. And I am not your buddy." His voice was the epitome of controlled fury. Callen had a notoriously long fuse, but this one was almost burnt out.

"Mr Callen? A word, please." Hetty was standing amongst the shattered remnants of the doorway. As ever, she had no need to raise her voice, controlling the situation by sheer force of personality. "And then these gentlemen can get on with their job, which is giving Ms Blye their expert attention. You'll be taking her to UCLA neurosurgery, won't you?" It was clearly not a question, despite the polite phraseology.

"Yes, ma'am." One of the essential skills required by a paramedic was the ability to quickly assess a situation and then act accordingly. This woman was small, but she was clearly in command, cutting down that Fed with a single glance. The paramedic knew better than to argue with her, was willing to bet that the least sign of resistance to her courteous order would unleash a devastating fury. For a brief moment he wondered who the hell she was, but then he just got on with the job in hand, namely trying to make sure this young woman was stable enough to move safely – to UCLA, of course. By the end of the day he would have forgotten all about the young woman, her boss and the guy with the attitude problem. That was what happened after another shift of scooping up the human flotsam and jetsom that Los Angeles cast out upon her busy street. At the end of the day, it didn't matter who any of them were – they were just people, that was all. Ordinary people, who had some of the most extraordinary things happened to them, often through no fault of their own. And he was the person sent out to pick up the pieces, so that someone else could attempt to put them back together again. After a while, the faces all blurred into one another. They were all just people, when it came right down to it. Everybody hurt.

Callen reluctantly left Kensi's side, but his eyes stayed firmly fixed upon her. "Is Deeks meeting us at the hospital?"

"We have a slight problem there."

He was not in the mood for any niceties, so Callen just pulled out his cell. "Problem solved."

She was his partner and that meant that Deeks needed to know, while Kensi – Kensi needed all the help she could get. And that meant that she needed Deeks to be with her, to be there for her Nothing was ore certain. Punching in Deeks' number, Callen put the phone to his ear, not caring what Hetty might think of his rudeness. Sometimes you just had to cut through the layers of administration and this was definitely a case of getting the biggest pair of scissors available and wielding them with alacrity. Seconds later, the familiar sound of Deeks' ringtone sounded, albeit slightly muffled.

Hetty reached into her jacket pocket and then she produced a cellphone, lying in the palm of her outstretched hand. Onscreen it displayed a message that proclaimed there was an incoming call from Callen.

"As I said, we have a slight problem." Hetty waited until Callen ended the call. "LAPD couriered this over an hour ago. It seems they are going to be requiring the services of our Mr Deeks for a long-term undercover operation. It was not up for negotiation." And God knows, she had tried. But it was too late: Hetty had presented with a done deal, a fait accompli, a petty piece of 'who has the biggest dick'. Well, by George, they were in for a surprise, because Hetty could piss with the big boys: he could piss longer and higher and faster. But she would choose her time carefully and right now, her first priority had to be ensuring Ms Blye was alright. And she didn't look alright. She didn't look alright at all.

"Get him back."

"I tried." Really, sometimes Hetty thought it was a good thing that Callen had no relatives, for otherwise he would undoubtedly have attempted to teach his granny how to suck eggs. "But to no avail. And before you ask, I also tried to get a message to him, or even to discover his current whereabouts. I was unsuccessful." Defeat did not come easily to Hetty.

"They can't do this." Louise was going to go ballistic when she found out, Callen thought. LAPD didn't have the greatest track record when it came to backing Deeks up on his undercover work and the only thing that had saved him from a terminal case of inactivity last time around was the intervention of NCIS. Maybe they should just get Louise to go down to headquarters and read them the riot act? Suitably couched in legalese, of course. Even better, they could send Hetty and Louise together. The tag-team from hell.

"They can, and what is more, they have." Outwardly calm, cool and collected, Hetty was raging inside. Regardless of the technicalities, Deeks was her agent and she meant to make sure he was back with his team as soon as possible – back where he belonged. Something told Hetty that unless she acted quickly, Deeks' life expectancy might be severely curtailed.

"Sam was right – Deeks can't go on serving two masters for much longer." The sooner Deeks came to his sense and realised that he belonged to NCIS, the better. He was a part of the team and they needed him now. Kensi needed him now. Damn Deeks. Why did he have to be so stubborn and pig-headed?

The paramedics were loading Kensi into the ambulance now and Callen started to follow them.

"Mr Callen? Aren't you forgetting something?" Hetty gestured towards Jennifer, who had managed to lever herself into a seated position and was regarding both of them balefully. "Escort her to the boatshed, if you please and I will make sure Mr Hanna joins you there. We still have a job to do."

"And we still have one injured agent," he spat.

"Which is exactly why I will be going to the hospital with Ms Blye. Unless you have any objections?"

Biting back a smart remark, Callen just stood aside and watched as Hetty insinuated herself into the ambulance, almost before the paramedics realised she was there. As he watched them drive off, lights flashing and sirens wailing their song of distress, he wondered once again why Kensi had been talking about Macy. They'd only ever had a politely distant relationship at best, and even that had ended over two years ago. It didn't make any sense that Kensi should think Macy had been there in the gallery, even if she had taken one hell of a knock to her head. He'd have to ask her about that, later on. Because there would be a 'later on', of that Callen was perfectly certain. Kensi would be alright and Deeks would come back from this latest hair-brained assignment and things would be back to normal, the way they were meant to be. It was impossible to conceive of anything else happening.

* * *

><p>Kensi couldn't understand what was happening, because the world wasn't behaving the way it was supposed to. One minute she was lying on the floor of the gallery, listening to Macy saying goodbye, and then the next somebody was rubbing their knuckles painfully into her sternum and asking her to open her eyes. That should have been simple, but for some reason it took intense concentration to obey that simple command, and when she did, the bright light that flooded into her brain was enough to make her sick.<p>

"I'm going to vomit," she said, only her voice didn't sound right, it sounded muffled and incoherent, the words all jumbled and nonsensical. Not that it mattered, because she was being turned onto her side anyway, a plethora of hands holding her body and head immobile. Whatever. There didn't seem much point in protesting or even resisting, it was easier just to lie there, limp and supplicant. It struck Kensi that they were making an awful lot of fuss about a bump on the head, even if it had given her a killer headache, but it was too much effort to protest, it was much easier just to close her eyes and drift away again into a pleasant nothingness.

The next time Kensi was aware of anything was terrifying, because she was completely trapped inside some huge machine, and she was unable to move or call out or do a single damned thing. It was dark, but she knew she was in a confined space, because she could feel her own warm breath come bouncing back down from a low ceiling onto her face. She tried to call out, to scream for help, but her mouth was refusing to work properly and anyway, the machine was making so much noise it was hard to hear herself think. Panic started to bubble up inside her and Kensi wondered if this was what it felt like when you were dying – knowing that there was nothing you could do to stop the inevitable. She remembered Macy talking about dying, and saying how crappy it was. Why hadn't she listened harder? Why hadn't she asked more questions? And where the hell was Macy, just when she needed her most?

It was a relief to slip back into oblivion, because if this was death, Kensi decided that she didn't like it at all, and she would really rather it was over and done with as soon as possible. At least if she was dead, then this pain in her head would go away. It would be good to see Macy again, she thought. But God, she was going to miss Deeks. She was going to miss him so much, so much that the pain that thought engendered was even worse than the pain in her head. Kensi tried frantically to recall his face, his smile, anything about him, but once again her brain betrayed her and she wept silence, bitter tears of frustration. When the darkness came again, she welcomed it like an old friend.

* * *

><p>"Your agent has suffered a traumatic brain injury."<p>

The small, composed woman took this in, with no visible sign of emotion. "And your prognosis?"

"At this stage, it's difficult to tell. It often is, with this sort of closed head injury." The doctor leaned back in his chair and regarded Hetty gravelly. "The good news is that she's managed to maintain her own airway, apart from some nausea. So that's positive."

"I'm glad to hear that." Any positive news was good news, Hetty thought. "And the rest?" she enquired in as neutral a tone of voice as she could manage.

"The scans have shown that she has a significant skull fracture, but not one that requires any surgery. There is some minor bleeding around the brain itself, but again, not enough to warrant any surgery."

So far, so good. This was all sounding unexpectedly positive. Which meant there was something more sinister about to be revealed. Hetty had broken bad news enough times to know how one did these things. "Please continue," she invited.

"We're monitoring Ms Blye's intercranial pressure with a small probe, inserted through her skull. If it gets too high, then we will administer drug therapy, and if that is unsuccessful, then we will attempt to drain the excess fluid away. But at the moment, we're just watching her very closely indeed. Her blood pressure is elevated and she's shown some minor signs of cardiac arrhythmia, but these are being controlled. However…"

Aye, there was the rub. There was always an 'however', in Hetty's experience. "However?" she echoed.

"We are very concerned about her. Ms Blye has never fully recovered consciousness since she collapsed at the scene of the accident."

"Assault," Hetty corrected automatically. "She was assaulted while in the course of carrying out an official investigation."

"Of course. Well, since the assault, Ms Blye has lapsed into what we term a 'stupor' – a state of unconsciousness, from which she can be briefly roused by external stimulus, such as a sharp pain, or a loud noise. But apart from that she is unconscious. She's scoring 9 on the Glasgow Coma Scale, which places her on the high end of the moderate head injury register. But we are very concerned, because Ms Blye is intensely confused when we do arouse her. So far Ms Blye has not been able to communicate verbally with us. Her words are jumbled and incoherent."

Hetty blanched, and gripped the arms of her chair so tightly that her knuckles showed white. "Are you trying to tell me that MS Blye has suffered a stroke?"

"No, not a stroke. Rather, the location of the injury, and the increased pressure inside her brain are currently causing some cognitive impairment and affecting Ms Blye's ability to communicate effectively."

In other words, Kensi was talking gibberish. Shutting her eyes briefly, Hetty thought of Kensi: bright, funny, beautiful Kensi, who always had a quick remark, a witty put down, who could talk her way out of almost any situation, and she tried very hard not to weep.

* * *

><p><em>See what I mean? Poor Kensi... which is why I really should let EPB maim Deeks (mildly) on a regular basis - because just look at the result when he's denied his pleasures. <em>

_Anyway, the TV show I mentioned Callen and Louise watching - it's True Blood. I have to watch it lying on the sofa, because as you know I have exceedingly delicate sensibilities and am easily shocked._


	33. Chapter 33

Okay, this was a hospital, she knew that much. It was the smell that gave it away to begin with, even before Kensi opened her eyes. The unique smell that seemed to permeate every single hospital she'd ever been in: a curious mixture of disinfectant, soap, floor polish and pee. No matter what they did in the way of cleaning, you could never really escape the pervading undertone of stale pee. It was definitely a hospital, because she also recognised the faintly annoying beep of the machines. Or monitors. Whatever they were, they were beeping and it was annoying. Okay, so she was in a hospital.

That was fine, because she was fine, Kensi realised. She didn't hurt at all, which was great. That meant she hadn't been shot. Being shot was kind of an occupational hazard in her line of work, but so far she'd been lucky. Bullet wounds hurt – she'd seen that at first hand. And the surgery to remove bullets hurt even more. She didn't hurt, therefore she hadn't been shot. Which was even better. Now, if she could just manage to open her eyes, everything would be perfect.

Wait a minute. How come that was so difficult? What was the big deal about opening your eyes? It was something she'd done every single morning of her whole life, without thinking. You woke up: you opened your eyes. It was as simple as that. Or at least it used to be. She tried again, tried as hard as she could, but it was no use. Okay, maybe this wasn't quite as great as she had originally thought.

Suppose this wasn't a hospital after all? Maybe this was purgatory, where you lingered around in agony until all the sins were cleansed from your body. That sounded about right. What was worse than being stuck in a hospital, unable to move? This was actually fairly crappy, Kensi thought. There was a foul taste in her mouth and she wondered if this was the infamous brimstone and treacle from hell. Whatever it was, it was vile and corrosive, she wanted to spit it out, but her mouth was refusing to work properly. Oh God, things were getting worse by the second. Wherever she was, Kensi wanted out of here right now.

"Kensi? Kensi, I want you to open your eyes and look at me."

Okay, someone was talking to her. Talking to her very slowly and loudly, like she was deliberately ignoring him. Didn't he think she'd open her eyes if she could? Was this man completely stupid or just moderately challenged? A sharp pain flared in her chest, right between her breasts and without any warning her eyes flew open and Kensi found herself blinking in protest as a harsh light seemed to burn her retinas.

"Good girl."

What a patronising jerk. Were doctors naturally arrogant, or did they get a good dose of it surgically implanted at the same time as they got their degree scrolls? Kensi tried to scowl, but her face didn't want to obey her. Her eyes slid to one side, where a tall figure was standing, back to the window where the dying rays of the sun were pouring in, bathing the room in golden tones of apricot and amber, turning a familiar head of golden hair to molten honey. He was here. He was here and everything was going to be alright. They could make sense of all this together.

"Marty?" At least that was what her brain said. But what came out of her mouth was something different altogether: it was a muddled, guttural sound that made no sense at all. Kensi tried again, tried desperately to form the simple sounds, just two syllables, that was all. It sounded worse that time, more of a grunt than any recognisable language. It was no problem now to keep her eyes open, they were wide with terror and Kensi found herself reaching out desperately for help, while more terrible sounds came streaming forth from her mouth, like some hideous parody of speech.

"Help me. Help me, Marty."

As she listened to the jumbled, ugly noises she was producing, Kensi knew exactly what was happening to her: she was in hell and nobody could help her now.

* * *

><p>"What do you mean 'we can't get in touch with Deeks'?" Sam demanded.<p>

"Which bit of that sentence didn't make sense?" They were taking a break from questioning Jennifer, a job neither man wanted to do, and their tempers were consequently running high.

"All of it. None of it makes sense. Deeks needs to know. That's his partner, lying in the hospital. That's Kensi. Our Kensi."

The thought of Kensi lying helpless and all alone was devastating. Sam refused to allow himself to think any further, or to imagine Kensi changed in any way whatsoever, because she was pretty near perfect just the way she was. Even if her taste in men left a lot to be desired. Still, all things considered, Deeks wasn't that bad. He sort of grew on you, after a while. Things certainly weren't the same without him around. And he should be here. Deeks needed to be here and they needed Deeks. More particularly, Kensi needed Deeks.

Callen knew exactly what Sam was saying, and he knew exactly how his partner felt, because he felt the same way. He still could not shake the image of Kensi lying on the floor, her eyes unfocused and staring right past him, looking at a woman who had been dead for over two years, a woman Callen had loved in secret, and for whom he had grieved in secret. And now the doctors were saying that Kensi had suffered some sort of trauma that might result in permanent impairment. If ever she had needed someone at her side, someone willing her to get better, convincing her that she could do it, that moment was now.

"I know all that, Sam. And so does Hetty. But her hands are tied."

"Then I'll go down to LAPD personally and find whoever can untie them. And I'll bring Deeks back with me." Sam thumped his fist off the table and then looked surprised as pain flared up in response. "Damn."

"Yup."

"I'm going to make that bitch in there talk. And quickly. The sooner this is over, the sooner we can get to the hospital."

"Good plan." In fact, as far as Callen was concerned, it was ideal. "I might just make a quick call first."

"You got some well-placed contact in a high-up position? Some super-spook from your days with the CIA?" Sam's eyes lit up with hope.

"Do I look like someone who's on first name terms with the movers and shakers?" Callen shook his head. "As for the spooks, I don't think this is quite in their game plan – unless we want to plan a covert assassination."

"That works for me. Works just fine, G." It would be a lot quicker and a lot cheaper, after all. It would save them a whole lot of time and effort and it would definitely cut down on the paperwork.

Callen decided just to ignore that. Sam knew he was joking – didn't he? "But I do know someone who can pull a few strings. And she's got kind of a personal interest in this case."

"Ah. The lovely Louise." Sam gave him one of those knowing looks that he had down to a fine art. Callen ignored that too.

"Indeed. Who just happens to be a rather good lawyer. And Deeks' next of kin into the bargain." Well, it was worth a shot. What did they have to lose?

"You make that call. And then, let's go squeeze Jennifer till her pips squeak." Sam found he was rather looking forward to that prospect. He watched as Callen pulled out his cell and then hesitated, his finger hovering over the screen.

"Or maybe I should wait a bit? It would be better to tell her in person, I think." Somehow Callen just knew that Louise was not going to take this news well. At the very least there would be lots of shouting, and at worst there would be showing, throwing of objects and very possibly tears. It was the tears he dreaded most. Callen could cope with most things, but a crying woman got to him every single time.

"She needs to know, G. And she needs to know now."

Sam was right. He usually was, although Callen would not give his partner the satisfaction of admitting that. And he was pretty tactful too, retreating a discrete distance away while Callen talked to Louise in a low voice.

"That went better than I expected." Shoving the phone into his back pocket, Callen grinned wryly at his partner. "Only minimal fireworks. And she's going straight over to the hospital to see Kensi."

"Which means the small-but-deadly one will be back here in about an hour. We'd better get cracking. I say forty-five minutes before she cracks." Jennifer was surprisingly resistant to most persuasive techniques.

"With my silver tongued charm? Thirty, maximum." Callen wasn't just going to leave the gloves off, he was quite prepared to put on a metal gauntlet, or failing that, a set of knuckle-dusters – whichever was easier to obtain. They needed to get this investigation wrapped up as soon as possible.

"How much?" There was nothing like a little bet to get you performing at maximum efficiency. And it focussed your attention marvellously, when you were worried sick about your team-mate.

"How does an even hundred sound?"

"It sounds like you've got yourself a deal."

Shaking hands, they went back into the interrogation room. There was a job to be done, and while they were doing it, both men would force all their worries and concerns to some far-distant corners of their minds. And once Jennifer had finally revealed all she knew, they would be over at the hospital as fast as the Challenger could take them.

* * *

><p>"Callen called me. How bad is it?" Louise was out of breath, having run all the way from the hospital parking lot.<p>

"It's not good," Hetty said slowly. "The doctors seem to think Ms Blye has suffered some sort of brain injury that is affecting her speech."

"Is it permanent?"

My, Louise was refreshingly direct, and asking pertinent questions into the bargain. Despite her overweening worry, Hetty was impressed. "They hope not. But they have to wait for the swelling in her brain to go down, and that could take a while. The longer this condition persists, then the less chance she will ever totally recover."

"They don't know Kensi, do they?" A smile played on Louise's face. "Because she's a fighter. Kensi's going to be just fine." She took hold of Hetty's hand, a gesture that astonished the older woman. She couldn't remember how long it had been since another woman had shown her that small gesture of solidarity. "And you know what doctors are like – always hedging their bets. They're terrified of being sued, that's the trouble."

"You would know, of course?"

"I only go after the bad ones. And I know you've made sure Kensi's getting the best possible treatment."

"You really are a remarkably confident young woman, aren't you?"

"I try my best." Just for a brief moment, the mask slipped. "If I let myself think about everything that could go wrong, they'd be committing me before you knew what was happening. If I stay concentrated, focused on one thing at a time, then I can get through this." Everybody had their own coping techniques that allowed them to face the world when all they wanted to do was crawl into a corner and weep.

"I tried my best." Hetty didn't need to say any more, they both knew what she was referring to. The ghost of Deeks hovered between them, mute and accusing.

"I know."

This was not the time to address that issue. One thing at a time. That was how she would deal with this, by making sure Kensi was alright before she allowed herself to think about her brother. That was how she would push down all the worries that were gnawing away at her gut and telling her something was badly wrong with Marty.

Louise squeezed Hetty's hand and then straightened up to her full height as a doctor approached them, followed at a respectful distance by a bevy of assorted minions. "Looks like it's time to get this show on the road." She gave the doctor the full benefit of her mega-watt smile, introduced herself as 'Miss Lange's legal adviser' and managed to gain access to Kensi's room in under two minutes, something Hetty had singularly failed to achieve.

"I'll just wait here, shall I?" Hetty found herself talking to empty space, as the door shut behind them. God help the world if it ever decided to take on Louise Brandel. She knew who she would be betting on.

* * *

><p>Not wanting to push her luck too far, Louise went to stand over by the window while the doctor bent over the bed and tried to wake Kensi up. She was glad of the space and time in which to try to come to terms with this alien figure lying motionless in bed, hair still stained with her own blood, now dried and flaking off onto the pristine white pillowslip. There were still traces of blood on her face and underneath her fingernails too. Obviously, the medical staff had other priorities, but it didn't seem right to have left her looking like that. Louise took a long, sad look and decided that it didn't look like Kensi at all. Her heart contracted painfully at the realisation.<p>

"Kensi? Kensi, I want you to open your eyes and look at me." The doctor spoke loudly and clearly, and Louise strained forward with every fibre in her body, craning to get a better look and willing Kensi to open her eyes. It was to no avail: there was no reaction, not even the smallest twitch of hand, far less the hopeful flutter of an eyelid.

Louise found she was holding her breath. Bugger. Come on, make an effort, Kensi. I've been talking you up big time, and here you are, just lying in bed like we've not all got better things to do. So just make an effort will you? I'm glad Marty's not here to see you like this. Because it would destroy him. So just wake up, Kensi. We need you to wake up.

With a slight sigh, the doctor produced a small flashlight and then rubbed his knuckles hard into Kensi's sternum. The reaction was instantaneous: her eyes flew open, with an almost comical effect. Comical, until she seemed to wince against the bright light, as if it was causing her intense pain and then tried to retreat away from it.

"Good girl." Clearly he had got the desired result, because the doctor was now staring into Kensi's eyes, moving the beam of light from one to the other.

Thank you, God. I'll never doubt you again. Louise leant back against the window in relief, and then watched as Kensi looked directly at her.

"Aaah-eh?"

Her lips were moving, but that wasn't Kensi's voice. That harsh, almost guttural sound wasn't Kensi. Only it was, Louise realised. When Hetty had mentioned a speech impairment, she had envisaged a minor impediment such as a hesitancy, something along the lines of a stutter, or perhaps using the wrong words, possibly not being able to remember some words. But not this. She had never thought that Kensi would not be able to communicate at all. More desperate sounds came out, none of them making any sense and Kensi stretched out her hands as if in supplication.

The doctor was talking now, but Louise wasn't listening, she was pushing past him to sit on the side of the bed.

"Kensi? Kensi – it's Louise. Look at me."

Kensi didn't need to speak, because the look of abject terror in her eyes said more than mere words ever could.

"I'm going to help you, Kensi." She reached out and at the same time Kensi pushed herself up, almost falling into Louise's outstretched arms. Their arms around one another, the two women wept, Louise stroking the tangled hair back from Kensi's face and watching as more crimson traces of dried blood fell softly down onto the sheets like so many tiny autumn leaves.

"Where's a St Bernard when you need one?" Louise sat down beside Hetty and shook her head ruefully.

"I don't think they allow dogs in hospitals," Hetty said carefully.

"Sorry. Bad joke. You know all these stories about the St Bernards rescuing travellers in the Alps – with those dinky little barrels of brandy around their necks? Just my way of saying I really need a drink. Sorry, I talk too much when I'm nervous. Or upset. Or when I'm mad."

It seemed to be a family failing, Hetty thought. Or was that a coping mechanism? Not that it mattered, for there were more important things to discuss. "How is she?"

Louise stared into space, trying to find the words. "She can't talk, Hetty. I mean, she can make noises – sounds, I suppose. But they don't make any sense."

"Oh my." This was worse than Hetty had allowed herself to even contemplate.

"It was kind of horrific." Louise brushed the back of her hand across her eyes. "I think she's really frightened."

"I would be terrified."

"Me too."

They sat in silence for a long time, carefully not looking at each other. Eventually, Hetty stood up.

"Perhaps we should go and get that drink?" she suggested.

"That sounds like a good idea." Afterwards Louise just wanted to fall into bed with Callen's arms around her, and just have him hold her tightly. "And you can tell me what the hell is going on with my brother." The old spirit was back in her voice, Hetty noticed, complete with a steely edge.

"I was wondering when you would bring that up."

"I'll bet you were. And then we can decide what we're going to do about it."

In that instant, Hetty decided that Ms Louise Brandel was not only a formidable force to be reckoned with, she might just prove to be the most valuable asset she possessed in this perilous game of cat and mouse. It was always good to have a queen ready to swoop to the rescue when one of your pawns was in jeopardy.

* * *

><p><em>And still no sign of Deeks. Where is he and what's happening to him? Evil plot bunny knows and his whiskers are twitching away merrily. That's never a good sign.<em>


	34. Chapter 34

"I have a rather fine malt whisky back at the Mission. Perhaps you might care to join me in a glass?" Resorting to a good stiff drink was not a sign of weakness, not at all.

Louise hated whisky with a vengeance, almost as much as she hated not knowing what crazy scheme her brother had managed to get himself roped into. One of these days Marty would have to learn to say 'no'. So she could choke down the former, viewing it as a means to an end, if it meant she got some information about the latter. And then on the way home afterwards, she could stop and buy some decent alcohol, preferably in the form of Tanquery gin. Real women drank real gin, after all.

"That'll be fine."

"And then you and Mr Callen can go back to his house afterwards." Hetty wasn't normally quite so blunt when it came to private matters, but these were trying circumstances, and there was no point in pussyfooting around. They were both adults, after all.

"Why would I do that?" Louise asked, with patent honesty.

Hetty blushed. It was the first time she could recall doing so since 1978 and the experience was oddly disconcerting. How could she have misjudged the situation quite so badly? Clearly, she was under more stress than she had quite appreciated. "Forgive. I shouldn't have assumed anything. That was very rude of me and I apologise." Being caught on the wrong-foot was most upsetting.

"We'll be staying at Marty's, you see," Louise continued, as if she hadn't spoken. "To look after Monty. That's what he would want."

"Monty. Of course." Everyone needed something in their lives after all: a reason to keep going. Sam had his family; Deeks had Monty and now he had Kensi too; Louise had Callen. And Hetty? Hetty had her work. Sometimes it wasn't enough. Today was definitely one of those days when the absence of someone meaningful in her life was creating an aching chasm . She knew exactly how Kensi must feel lying alone in her hospital bed, unable to communicate and without even the consolation of anyone to hold her hand. Remembering how comforting Louise's touch had been Hetty decided that once she had completed her work at NCIS, she would return to the hospital, and spent the night beside her agent. That way, they would each have someone.

* * *

><p>Callen and Sam were just putting the final touches to their reports when Hetty and Louise came in.<p>

"So who won?"

Sam blinked in surprise. "How did you know we had a bet?"

"Because you usually do. Over something. Or indeed nothing. Perhaps I should introduce a mandatory course on the perils of gambling? We might even be able to start up our very own chapter of Gamblers Anonymous." Hetty strode towards her desk and then turned around and beckoned imperiously. "I could read your reports, but it would be considerably quicker if you briefed me verbally." And right now she felt completely drained.

"Plus, she's got whisky," Louise said in an undertone, her lips scarcely seeming to move.

"Jennifer was in it up to her neck," Callen said in a flash. "Handling stolen goods was more or less a family tradition, so she and Colter were a match made in heaven. He had the goods; she had the contacts."

Sam took up the story. "They got lazy though. And greedy. Plus they were pretty damned stupid. We're talking about pieces looted from the Baghdad National Museum – well-documented pieces. Their usual network of contacts passed those up as too hot to handle, and someone had the sense to alert Lieutenant Foley to their activities."

"So there is some honour among thieves after all," Hetty mused. "I suppose that is something."

"Presumably, they didn't want to get dragged into any fall out." Sam was reluctant to ascribe any altruistic motives to the snitch. "Anyway, it didn't do Mark Foley any good. He misjudged the situation, thought he could appeal to their better natures and manage to persuade them to hand the pieces back to their rightful. And look where that got him."

"Lying dead in an alley with his head smashed in," Louise said bluntly. That was happened when one man went in alone to a dangerous situation, without any back-up.

Although that palpable hit registered, Hetty's face remained impassive. "And the identity switch?"

"Confirmed by Jennifer. Austin killed his brother and assumed his identity." It looked like Mr Colter was now going to be charged with two murders, looting, handling stolen goods and any other charges that could be made to stick against him.

"She tried to cut a deal with us," Sam said laconically.

"Really?" The familiar speech mannerism did cause a reaction, as Hetty's eyebrows shot into her bangs, or as near to them as made no difference.

"Really," Callen confirmed. "We weren't inclined to accept." That was putting it mildly. Some things were not up for negotiation, and never would be. Jennifer would go on trial for the attempted murder of a federal agent and that was all there was to be said about the matter.

"You do surprise me. So, who won?" The fine details could be analysed later on, at a more appropriate time. Right now, Hetty's priority was to allow her team to decompress. Her sadly depleted team. This operation had taken its toll upon them all, herself included. The effects of today would be felt for some time to come and they needed a respite, a little light relief and a good strong drink. "The bet?" she hinted gently.

"It was a dead heat. So we decided to pool the money and buy Kensi something."

It was difficult to ascertain if Callen was telling the truth, and Hetty decided that it didn't actually matter. It was the thought that counted, and all their thoughts were with Kensi. "Ms Blye recovered consciousness while we were at the hospital."

The bright looks of expectation that flashed onto the two men's faces could have lit up the room. Hetty steeled herself, and began to relate the facts and consequences of Kensi's injury, while Louise stayed oddly silent, engrossed in knitting her fingers together until the full tale had been told.

"Now would be a good time for a drink." Sam watched as Hetty reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a bottle, half-full of a clear, amber hued liquid. Once a generous measure filled his glass he held it up. "To Kensi."

Callen echoed the toast and then watched as Louise choked down her drink as if it was some particularly noxious medicine and knew what was going through her mind. It was what they were all thinking and someone had to mention the blue-eyed elephant lurking in the corner of the room. "Are we going to talk about Deeks?" he asked. "Because he should be here."

"I don't trust LAPD to provide him with either a decent cover or any back-up," Sam said bluntly. "The last time he worked for them, he was out on a ledge. Literally."

"I don't think I want to hear any more about that, thank you very much." Louise's imagination was already running riot and needed no help in conjuring up horrific scenarios. "What I want to know is why my brother had to be pulled off a case - an NCIS case – and redeployed to LAPD at the drop of a hat? Why was he the only detective they could use?"

"Because this case required a lawyer to go in undercover and infiltrate an organisation trafficking in illegal immigrants and then placing them in what amounts to virtual slavery. And that isn't the sort of cover most people could pull off at short notice."

"I could." Louise stared defiantly at her. "And I will. Marty only practiced for a few months, whereas my career is a matter of record. My cover would be unbreakable – because it's real."

"You don't know what you are saying." But somehow Hetty had known all along that this was precisely what Louise would offer to do. However, she had to put up at least some token resistance.

"I know exactly what I'm saying. I'm a lawyer – I see all the gory details in the court papers, all the evidence. I'm speaking from a position of knowledge."

It was the sort of offer that would be hard to refuset, Hetty thought. "I'll make a call." What was there to lose? Apart from the small matter of Louise's life, of course. She would be going into this with considerable legal experience, but without any skills of covert operations or self-defence.

"There's nothing I can say that would stop you, is there?" Callen had enough experience to know when a woman was set on something and had learned the hard way not to interfere.

"Absolutely nothing. You might be able to show me a thing or two though." Louise was shaking inside at the thought of what she might be walking into, but she knew she had to do this. Her mother had made sure she escaped the malign influence of Gordon John Brandel, so that Louise had enjoyed an idyllic childhood with two loving parents. Conrad had been her father in all the ways that counted, in all the ways that were completely alien to the man who had merely provided half her DNA. Marty, on the other hand, had not been so lucky. He rarely talked about his childhood, but when he did, the stories were harrowing. In some small way, Louise felt that she might finally be able to redress the imbalance between their lives, to make amends for not having had a miserable childhood. It was ridiculous, but it mattered.

"I still can't picture Deeks in a suit, sitting in some stuffy law office." Far less with tidy hair, Sam thought.

"Don't bother. He wasn't that sort of lawyer anyway. Informal dress was obligatory, apart from court appearances."

Callen realised that Deeks had never spoken about his brief foray into legal practice. "So what sort of lawyer was he?"

Louise smiled: a sad, reflective smile. "marty was a damn good lawyer. He represented children – children who had been abused, physically and mentally. The victims of cruelty and neglect. The kids the system had given up on." She found that she was very glad of the arm Callen put around her shoulders.

"I guess that figures." Deeks always had a special rapport with children, able to inhabit their inner worlds, and to relate to them. Heck, he'd even taken in Monty, that dumb, scruffy, flea-bitten excuse of a dog that stared up at him with loving admiration: another reject from LAPD. It wasn't hard for Sam to work out why he'd wanted to work with child victims, because Deeks had been one himself. But that sort of work could destroy a person who was already to close the effects, it could consume them from within, until only a dry husk was left.

"And when he found he couldn't make enough of a difference, he joined the police?" It was all starting to make sense to Callen now, the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place and the picture they revealed was markedly different to the one on the lid of the box. Deeks never really spoke about his past, but he'd said enough for Callen to realise that it had been pretty crappy. For the first time he wondered if maybe it was better to grow up without any parents than to be trapped with ones who not only did not care, but deliberately hurt you.

"Got it in one." And she'd been so mad with Marty at first, accused him of being a dilettante, of throwing away everything he'd worked so hard to achieve on a whim. It was only later that she realised how deep those childhood scars went in her brother and understood why he had to change career before it destroyed him.

"Bit of a difference in salary." That was an understatement. They all knew how laughable NCIS salaries were.

"Sometimes money is only money. It's not really that important, when it comes right down to it." As she said that, Louise realised that possessions weren't that important either, as long as you had what was truly essential in life. Who cared if Callen lived in a house that was virtually bare? Not her. It was what was inside the man that was important. It looked like they were going to have a lot to talk about tonight. She looked at Hetty eagerly as the older woman ended her telephone conversation.

"They don't like it."

"Too bad. I don't really care. Did they buy it?"

Callen found he was holding his breath, not sure of what he wanted to hear. While he wanted Deeks back, his soul was crying out that he needed Louise to stay here, right here at his side, where she was safe.

"Eventually. And with great reluctance."

For some obscure reason, Hetty had found herself implying that Ms Brandel might go to the press with the heart-wrenching tale of a beautiful, injured federal agent and how the LAPD were deliberately hiding the news from her noble, heroic boyfriend. Add into the mix the promise of photographs of a scantily clad Deeks performing at _Cavalier_ and the resultant tabloid frenzy was only too predictable. And Mr Callen and Mr Hanna thought they were good at gambling? Hetty longed to take them on at poker and show them how the pros bluffed. She have them down to their boxers before you could say 'Jack Robinson'.

"She'll have back-up. Twenty-four seven." Callen was not asking a question, he was stating a fact.

"I stipulated that. And of course, LAPD are mindful of the fact that Ms Brandel has a rather impressive case-record in court." In other words, Hetty had reminded them that Louise Brandel would sue their asses off.

"So that's it." The reality of what she had just done hit Louise like a hammer-blow to her solar plexus. Marty was going to kill her when he found out. Knowing him, he'd refuse to give up his involvement, so they were going to have to be sneaky: get him out and herself established before he knew what was going on. Thank heavens for Hetty Lang, because if anyone could manage to pull off that little manouevre, she was the person.

"That's it. You're to report at nine am tomorrow morning."

So they had tonight, Callen realised. At least they had tonight. And he would make sure they used every single minute of their time together. Losing Macy had taught him how important it was to talk and to share. There were so many things he should have said to Macy, things that had eaten away at his conscience. Had she ever known how much he loved her, how unique and incredible she was? That losing her had been like seeing a light go out? He wasn't going to make the same mistake again, because Louise deserved to know that he loved her, that she had transformed his life from dull routine to sparkling promise.

"LAPD agreed Mr Deeks can be released from his reassignment immediately."

Sam stood up. "Call them back and say I'm on my way. I'll take him straight to the hospital."

Afterwards, Hetty sat back and looked around the Mission: almost deserted now, bar a few souls covering the night shift. Her team was coming back together again and tonight they would all be with the people they loved. And she would go home, once again, to an empty house. That was just the way things were. Once upon a time, a very long, long time ago, she had been so full of certainty that there would be someone to share her life with, but her heart had been shattered too many times to even hope that there might be someone out there, that special someone who made life worth living. Now Hetty was resigned to going home alone, to living her life alone. She could immerse herself in her work, but at the end of the home, she went home alone. That was the way things were and it was too late to change them now. She would go home and be alone again, naturally.

* * *

><p>"Hey there, baby girl."<p>

The room was dark, and her mind was still clouded and confused, but Kensi would have known his voice anywhere. This time, it was not difficult to open her eyes, not difficult at all, not while he was holding her hand, his thumb describing small circles in her palm. Kensi looked up to see Deeks bending over her bed, smiling down at her even as the tears stood out unashamedly in his eyes, along with a love that shone out bright, pure and true.

* * *

><p><em>Ah - slushy plot bunny beats his evil brother!<em>


	35. Chapter 35

Kensi made a sound, another of those rough, meaningless sounds that bore no relation to the thoughts that were consuming her soul and forming with such clarity in her head, but this time it didn't matter, because he understood exactly what she was trying to say.

"Of course I came. Where else would I be?" Deeks lifted her hand up to his lips and kissed it tenderly. "There's nowhere else I want to be." He turned her hand over and kissed the palm, letting his lips linger there before folding her fingers over the spot, as if to let her hold onto his love.

Kensi wanted to tell him how much she wanted him, how very much she needed him, but she did not have the words and was reluctant to let another stream of incomprehensible syllables betray her idiotic injury. All she could do was to look at him, and try to let her eyes say all the things her voice could not.

"Of course you're frightened." Deeks' voice was low and remarkably matter of fact.

Had she ever shown fear in front of him before? Kensi struggled to pull the ragged corners of her mind together. There was that time he was shot, of course. And the time she had been abducted and trapped in the laser-web. On both occasions Deeks had been scared too, and that made it different.

"Want to know something? I'm frightened too. I'm terrified, Kensi. So we're going to have to be strong for each other, okay?"

Deeks had always been able to talk. He could talk the hind leg off a donkey and Sam swore that he spoke entirely too much. How wrong he was. Kensi felt that she could have listened to Deeks talking for eternity, as he told her that everything would be alright, that he would be beside her every step of the way and that it was alright to be out of her mind with worry. Deeks talked, and Kensi listened. He talked and she believed him, because she knew she could trust him, with her body and with her mind.

Finally, his defences came down briefly. "Oh God, Kensi – when Sam told me, I was so damned scared." His voice was unsteady, and he caught his bottom lip between his teeth.

There wasn't ever going to be an easy way to tell someone that his partner – his lover – had a brain injury, but Sam had done his best, the tough persona he habitually adopted disappearing. In that moment Deeks had known how much Sam was hurting too. Strangely enough, he would have preferred Sam to be gruff and matter-of-fact, because sympathetic Sam meant Kensi was really badly hurt.

"And then I felt so bad, because I should have been there, I should have been there for you. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Deeks hung his head down, unable to meet her eyes and looking like a little lost boy. This could all have been so easily avoided – if only he had signed those papers when Hetty gave to him month ago. Currently, they were sitting in his desk back at the Mission, still unsigned. If only he had signed them, LAPD would not have been able to call him back any time they wanted. It was all his fault, because he had to be so stubborn.

"No." This time the word almost sounded right, she thought in amazement. Just to be sure, in case there was any room for doubt, Kensi shook her head firmly. Deeks wasn't going to blame himself, because she wasn't going to let him. The assault had happened in a split second, with Callen standing just yards away. It was just one of those things, with nothing anybody could do about it. She had been in the wrong place at the wrong time – she had just been unlucky.

"I let you down, Kensi." And that was something he was going to have to live with for the rest of his life. Deeks knew he should have been there, and that was all there was about it. He'd failed his partner.

"No." It sounded even better this time and for added emphasis Kensi laid her finger upon his lips. She wanted to tell him that it wasn't his fault, because it wasn't anybody's fault and the last thing she needed was for Deeks to wallow in a guilt trip when she needed him to be strong and focussed. Under the circumstances, a rueful smile and another shake of the head was the most she could manage.

"I'm talking too much, aren't I?" Deeks nipped the tip of her finger with his teeth. "So how about I shut up and just hold you? And maybe you could hold me." He wasn't sure if he could go on being strong for much longer, to keep this bright smile on his face and telling her that everything would fine, when all he wanted to do was to weep for the damage done. All Deeks could think of was that this shouldn't have happened, not to Kensi and he should have been able to stop it.

"Mmm-hmm." That was exactly what Kensi needed. It would be better than any medicine the doctors could give her.

There were times when words were superfluous, because what you actually required was the comforting touch of another person, when all you needed was to have their arms wrapped around you, so that you were surrounded and protected by their love. At such times, you were golden, inviolate and unconquerable, because nothing could touch you. Moving very carefully, Deeks got onto the bed, easing himself down to lie alongside Kensi, holding her in his arms and giving thanks she was still here, still alive. He lay perfectly still until her breathing slowed down, became deep and regular. It was only once Deeks was sure that she was asleep did he allow himself to let go and cry silent tears long into the dark reaches of the night. He prayed to a God that he was not even sure that he even believed in, prayed with a fervour and sincerity that came from somewhere deep within himself. Eventually, he slept fitfully until the thin light of dawn stirred the hospital back into the routine of another day.

This new day could only better than yesterday. Deeks tried to think about all the positive things: Kensi was alive and she was right here in his arms. But her hair was stiff with her own blood, so that the tainted-copper smell was hard to avoid. There was a probe monitoring the pressure within her skull and she could not talk. Watching Kensi struggle to form the simplest sounds last night, while not letting his own distress show had been more harder and more painful than he could ever have imagined. Yes, things could be a whole lot worse, but they were pretty grim. He hurt for her, Deeks realised. He physically ached to watch Kensi struggling, and he knew he would do anything to help her. Which meant one thing: this must be love.

* * *

><p>"Louise get off okay?" Sam asked in a deliberately off-hand manner.<p>

"She was dressed in one of those power suits, you know?" Callen was determined to keep this light. He didn't want to think of all the things that could go wrong with this sort of undercover operation.

"Black and kind of sexy in a 'guess what I've got on underneath' kind of way?"

"Exactly. Only don't you go imagining anything of the sort." He wasn't entirely sure he liked the speculative tone of Sam's voice.

"Excuse me? I'm a married man, remember?" Except that sometimes, when you were deep undercover, it was easy to forget and to allow yourself to fall in love with someone else, someone you should never have fallen in love with. And not so long ago, Sam would have called himself a happily married man. When had that changed?

"You're still a man. With a pulse. And a pair of eyes." They had never spoken about Jada, Callen realised, even though he had seen the pain in Sam's eyes, observed how his partner appeared to be carrying the weight of the world upon his shoulders. Men didn't talk about how they felt, not with other men. They didn't talk about emotions, they talked about football, and poker and anything except how they felt. He was certain that Sam had become more deeply involved than he had intended to, found himself pulled into a situation that he could not fight and that it was slowly pulling him apart from the inside-out. And Callen knew he should say something, if only he could find the right words, only they remained elusive and so he stayed silent.

"So how long is she going to be away?"

"Hard to say." However long it was, it would be too long.

"Sometime, this job sucks."

Sam was tired of all the pretence at home, of never being able to tell the whole truth, and always having to be aware of the risks his job exposed his family to. And now he had added to the risks, by letting himself become involved – emotionally involved – with Jada. It would have been so easy to go all the way, to just walk away and start afresh – just like he was watching his team-mates do. It all looked so very tempting. Oh, the early, heady days of new love, when no one day ever seemed long enough to do all the things you wanted to do, to say all the inconsequential things that meant everything and nothing. Sam had found his heart racing when he saw Jada, that old feeling of pent-up excitement that was about to be released just because she was there. He had literally counted the days until he would see her again, going over each single detail of their time together until it was indelibly etched into his brain. It had been a long time since Sam had experienced that depth of feeling and it was both exhilarating and addictive. Jada made him feel more alive than he had done in years. He still loved his wife, but a part of him yearned for Jada, because she made him feel alive after he'd just been existing for far too long. There was just one problem – being with Jada meant giving everything else up throwing away all these years, and Sam wasn't sure he was brave enough to do that. He still loved his wife – but he loved Jada too. And there was no resolution, because having one meant losing the other. It wasn't just his job that sucked, it was his whole life.

"Tell me about it." There was still paperwork to be done, but then there always was. It would still be here this afternoon, Callen thought. "How about we go over to the hospital?"

"I thought you'd never ask." Sam had got a brief glimpse of Kensi the previous evening, when he'd driven Deeks over; a silent, brooding Deeks. She'd been in what the doctor referred to as a stupor, but to Sam's eyes, it just looked as if she was unconscious. And Deeks looked as if they had just dropped the bomb – the big one. "She's going to be fine, you know." They'd lost too many good people over the years. They were not going to lose another one – and they were definitely not going to lose Kensi

"Of course she is. This is Kensi, after all. She's tough." Macy had been tough too, of course. Sometimes being tough wasn't enough. "And she's got Deeks. She'll start talking again just to shut him up."

Sam grinned at that and they walked out together, into the bright sunshine as Hetty watched unseen from the gallery, holding tightly onto the iron railing. Her team would be fine which was just as well, given the circumstances. Talking a deep breath, she walked into Ops with all her customary poise.

"Director Vance."

He appeared, larger than life, on the screen before her, chewing on one of those disgusting toothpicks, a habit Hetty regarded as both unsanitary and vaguely repulsive. Displacement activities were often worse than the original habit, she found. Had the man never realised that he looked as if he had just finished snacking on a porcupine?

"Hell of a mess, Hetty." Vance nodded and Nell pulled up a series of news reports with lurid headlines from all around the world

"I thought there was already an NCIS team investigating the alleged abuse by US Marines on the bodies of Taliban fighters?" Hetty knew very well that there was, but Leon Vance was clearly playing a game with her and she was interested to discover just how much he knew before she gave away her own position. A skilled games player, she had the definite impression that this time she had not only been dealt a losing hand, but that Leon had already seen each card before it was dealt.

"You know there is." It was a matter of public fact, after all. "I need your team to take a different angle. Two days ago, another Marine from the same platoon was found hanged. He's believed to be the one who leaked the information to the media."

The picture that accompanied this statement was graphic in the extreme. Nell had never grown accustomed to some of the images she was required to view and rather thought that they day she didn't feel sick would be the day she resigned.

"Suicide?"

"Probably not. Ducky Mallard is seeing what he can discover. But now we have yet another Marine, who claims it was murder. Which is where your team comes in."

"Sergeant David Gillander," Hetty said slowly, looking at the photograph of a man with straight dark hair and eyes the colour of espresso. So he did know. She had rather suspected that. "In which case I have to declare an interest and withdraw from any investigation."

"An interest?" Vance asked, channelling his inner Lady Bracknell, but failing to sound convincing or even mildly surprised.

"Yes. As you very well know, Leon." Hetty was aware that Eric and Nell were exchanging confused looks behind her back. She was being deliberately set up here and her hackles were beginning to rise.

"For the record, if you please." The toothpick moved from one side of his mouth to the other, and then back again.

You bastard, Hetty though. So Leon Vance wanted to humiliate her in, did he? He wanted to bring her to her knees in front of her staff? How very interesting that he felt the need to do something like that. She must remember to have a little word with Nate about that. Hetty was not going to give Vance the satisfaction of seeing how rattled she was, so she raised her chin up defiantly and spoke in clear, ringing tones.

"I formally request to be released from this operation, due to a conflict of interest which may affect my impartiality. Sergeant David Gillander is my son."

She stared at the screen impassively, until she had the satisfaction of seeing the Director finally drop his gaze.

"Request granted. You are hereby placed on administrative leave, effective immediately."

"You really are full of shit, Leon."

With that parting salvo, Hetty turned on her heel and marched briskly out of Ops, down the stairs and out of the Mission. It occurred to her that she may very well have also just walked out of her job as well. But it had been the truth and saying it had felt so damned good. And when David heard, he would be proud of her. So she held her head up high and she walked out with her dignity intact.

* * *

><p><em>and it looks like things just got a whole lot more complicated...<em>


	36. Chapter 36

"Hi sweetheart."

Kensi woke up to see Deeks sitting beside her bed, sipping coffee and looking as if it was perfectly normal to spend the night with your girlfriend in hospital. She felt a huge swell of relief that he was there – there for her. Last night had seemed like a hazy sort of reverie, the sweet sort of dream that left you filled with an ineffable sadness when you awoke and found out that none of it had been real. This had been no dream, because there Deeks was, just as she remembered, looking strangely formal in a white dress shirt and dark trousers.

"I know. Not exactly my normal choice of clothing." Deeks gestured towards a jacket and tie slung casually on the back of his chair. "And not exactly my choice either."

Kensi made a gesture of astonishment. She didn't quite trust her voice yet. It could be bad, or it could be good – she just wasn't ready to risk it either way. But looking at Deeks in a suit was something she could get used to. Dressed or undressed, the man looked good and that was a fact.

"Yeah, well. Contrary to what people might I think, I do actually have a couple of suits – weddings and funerals for the use thereof." And other than that, he'd just stick to jeans, thank you very much. He bent down and picked up another cup of coffee. "I figured you might want this."

It tasted even better than it smelled and Kensi let out a rapturous sigh after the first sip and then nearly choked in astonishment at the normalcy of the sound she'd just uttered.

"That sounded good. You are going to get better, you know? You will get your voice back, I promise." He spoke with such earnestness and total sincerity that Kensi believed in him implicitly.

"Yes." In truth, it sounded more like 'yush', but that was quibbling over small, inconsequential details. The sense of achievement Kensi felt at her accomplishment was rivalled only by the first time she'd achieved a perfect score on the shooting range.

"See? What did I tell you? They should call me Doctor Deeks." He screwed his face up. "No, that's a terrible idea; makes me sound like a character in a kids TV show. A cartoon or smoething. Anyway, I was lined up to be this sleaze-ball lawyer in some lame-ass op LAPD was running, hence the suit. And then, right at the eleventh hour, Sam turns up with a 'get out of jail free' card. I guess they got some other poor sucker to do the necessary, but I wasn't in a mood to ask too many questions – I just wanted to get out of there."

All Deeks had been able to think about was getting to Kensi – at least when he wasn't mentally beating himself up for letting her down, so he hadn't asked any questions at all, he'd just high-tailed it out of there. Sam had driven to the hospital as if all the hounds of hell were after him, neither man talking at all. It was all very well for the doctors to say that they were cautiously optimistic that Kensi would make a good recovery, but Deeks had to see her for himself, to physically touch her before he could allow to believe that she would be alright. And she would be alright, because here she was, slightly battered, to be sure, but still Kensi. Right now, he couldn't ask for anything more.

Kensi leant back against the pillows and thought that Deeks looked like he'd spent a sleepless night – the shirt was crumpled and creased, his eyes were shadowed and there was the beginning of a familiar regrowth of beard and moustache, while his hair was already beginning to revert to its customary tousled state. What a pair they must make. But who cared what they looked like, because she was beginning to appreciate what a wonderful pair they made.

"I did get you a couple of things though. Because these hospital gowns are the pits. And I'm guessing they're going to want to keep you in for another day or so." The hospital gift shop was surprisingly well-stocked and he'd gone kind of mad.

"At least another day," a voice commented dryly and Deeks turned around to see a doctor standing there, white coat flapping open over dark-blue surgical scrubs, while a host of lesser medics hovered in the doorway. "But you are making great progress. I think we can safely remove that ICP that's been monitoring the pressure inside your skull."

Deeks was one huge beam. "That's great. And she's beginning to be able to talk more clearly too." He sounded as proud as punch, Kensi thought.

"I'm glad to hear that, Mr…?" The doctor didn't sound glad at all, he sounded highly put out, as if Kensi's progress was a personal affront to him.

"Deeks. Marty Deeks. I'm Kensi's partner." And wasn't that a nice ambiguous term? Jusging by the reaction this got, Deeks had the very definite impression that he was surplus to requirements, and his theory was confirmed by the surgeon's next statement

"Congratulations. Now, how about you let me examine my patient?"

It was quite obvious he wasn't wanted and contrary to what some people might believe, Deeks could take a hint, so he left them to it. He probably should check in with the rest of the team and let them know what was happening. Besides which, he'd finished his coffee and it was a matter of public record that he was unable to function properly in the morning until he'd had at least two cups. But first, he had something to ask the nurses. The cute one with the strawberry-blonde hair looked as if she'd be receptive, but just to make sure, Deeks composed his face into a suitably hopeful, yet modest expression. Two minutes later and he was walking away in the direction of the coffee-shop, a million-dollar grin stretching from ear to ear. It was good to know he could still pull out the old charm, even after a sleepless night. You had to use it, or lose it, after all.

* * *

><p>"I might have known." Sam pointed to a corner booth where Deeks was sitting with a pre-occupied expression on his face. "Where else would we find him?"<p>

"Why did you think I chose this place?" Callen asked. Apart from the fact it was directly opposite the hospital. You didn't exactly have to be a trained detective to work out where a caffeine addict would be. "I'll have my usual, and get him a refill while you're at it. He'll need it after we've broken the news about Louise." He ambled over and sat down opposite Deeks.

"Callen."

"Deeks. I'm glad we've got that sorted out."

"Very funny." Deeks downed the last of his coffee and sighed. "Sorry, I didn't get much sleep last night."

"Tell me something I don't know." Callen hadn't had much in the way of shut-eye either, but for very different reasons, reasons that still made him smile when his mind slipped back to last night. "You look like hell."

"As good as that?"

"Maybe not. How's Kensi?"

The smile that lit up Deeks' weary face was all that was required, but as usual the younger man had plenty to say. "She's doing great. Sitting up in bed, smiling and even managing to say a couple of things. The doctor seemed pleased." He stopped and raised an eyebrow as Sam slid into the booth beside him. "Why do I get the feeling I'm being trapped?"

Sam pushed another cup of coffee towards him, along with a muffin. "How about you just eat and drink and let us do the talking?"

"I'm not going to like this, am I?" This was beginning to look awfully like an ambush, Deeks thought, but the coffee smelled so tempting, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd actually eaten anything. God, he was so easy.

"Probably not," Callen admitted, wondering if he'd made the right move by sitting opposite Deeks. Just how long was his reach? Very possibly long enough to land a decent punch across the table he calculated rapidly and scooted as far back into the bench seat as possible as a precautionary measure before beginning to relate the facts of the situation with as much tact and diplomacy as he could muster, while Sam sat poised to grab Deeks by the scruff of his neck if required. It never hurt to have a back-up plan/

"I should have known Louise would do something like this." Deeks' voice was full of weary resignation. "She's kind of headstrong."

As if Callen didn't know that already. His butt was still stinging after Louise had got rather carried away with the whip last night. "A bit like Kensi, then?" he asked smoothly. What was it with this penchant he and Deeks had for strong women?

"I guess. Except Louise used to play field hockey at college – for blood. Literally. Her hockey stick had actual teeth marks in it. She showed me." Deeks shivered at the recollection. He had a very healthy respect for his sister.

Sam said nothing. If his wife ever found out about Jada, she would be after considerably more than his blood.

"She shouldn't have gone. Hetty shouldn't have let her go." Deeks slammed his hand down on the table. "Why the hell did Hetty let her go?" Trust Louise to make some gran gesture. Why couldn't she realise that he could actually look after himself, that he didn't need his big sister holding his hand? Except that he did. If it hadn't been for Louise, then he wouldn't have got to be with Kensi last night. Why did things have to be so fucking complicated? And why hadn't he just signed the papers when Hetty had given them to him?

"Hetty didn't exactly have much of a choice. We were all riding her about how you needed to be with Kensi, but she was pretty much helpless." It was probably time to pour some oil on troubled waters before Deeks lost the plot completely.

"Hetty – helpless? She's about as helpless as a sabre-toothed tiger. She could have said 'no'." And in that alternative universe Louise would have meekly agreed and everyone would have lived happily ever after. Not.

"Have you ever tried telling your sister she can't do something?" Callen asked curiously. Maybe he could get a couple of hints that might protect the delicate skin on his ass from future assaults.

"Are you completely mad? Of course I haven't – I'm still alive, and talking to you, which pretty much proves my point. But then I'm not Hetty." Deeks reached into his pocket and then remembered. "Any chance I could borrow your cell phone? LAPD took mine off me."

Sam handed his across without a word. It seemed safest that way. Deeks might appear to be taking this relatively calmly, but his jaw was firmly set and there was a small muscle twitching away ominously.

"You're going to call Hetty?"

Deeks gave Callen a long-suffering look. "No, I thought I'd just check in with Monty to see how he was doing."

"If it's any help, he tried to eat one of my socks this morning." Monty had actually managed to eat two-thirds of a pair Callen's boxers before that, but the senior agent didn't think that anyone needed to know he was currently going commando. Somehow, he just hadn't felt comfortable with the idea of borrowing Deeks' underwear.

"You stayed over at my place?" Deeks' finger hovered over the 'call' button.

"I was doing you a favour and looking after your dog."

Somehow, Deeks had the impression that Callen had spent less time looking after his dog than looking at his sister. Or worse. Still, this wasn't the time or place to go into all that. In fact, he'd rather not think about it at all. As long as they hadn't used his bed, it was really none of his business anyway. And if they had, Deeks hoped they'd had the decency to change the sheets. "Thanks."

"I'm sure you'd do the same." As Callen's own sister had been dead for over thirty years it was somewhat of a moot point. He watched with interest as Deeks placed the call. This was going to be good… Deeks v Hetty. Was there any doubt as to who would emerge victorious?

Deeks ended the call and then looked at the screen in confusion, checking that he'd called the right number. "It went straight to voicemail."

"Hetty is human," Sam reminded him. "All appearances to the contrary notwithstanding. Maybe she was, you know – on a break." Even Hetty had to answer the call of nature – didn't she? Although now that he came to think about it, Sam realised he had never actually seen Hetty excuse herself, or go anywhere near the ladies' room. Curious. Very curious indeed.

"No – you don't understand. The message just said that number was no longer in use." Hetty's official cell would have been diverted to another number, that was standard protocol. And if her phone had been hacked, she would have been issued with a new one and their own cells automatically updated with the new number. This didn't make sense.

"Let me try." There was always a chance it could be a glitch in the network. Callen pulled out his own cell, and tried Hetty's number, but to no avail. "Same message," he said shortly.

"My spider senses are starting to tingle," Deeks remarked and then shrugged as Sam shot him a glare. "Sorry." Okay, so some people didn't appreciate his attempt to reduce the tension ever so slightly. Either that or they just didn't have a sense of humour.

Ignoring him, Callen tried the emergency number: Hetty's private number and the one to which only her team had access. The one which was always answered, regardless of whatever time the call was made. He put it onto speakerphone:

"_This is Henrietta Lang. I'm sorry, but I'm not available. If you need me, you know where to find me."_

"Okay, this is seriously weird." His anger draining away now, Deeks finished his coffee. "So do we? Know where to find her, I mean?"

"I do. One of her houses – not the one we went to before Romania. Another one, an apartment actually." Hetty had more residences than most women had purses, and Callen had given up trying to keep track of them all, or where she might be at any given moment in time, which was why they had pre-arranged this rendezvous, just in case. For some reason, Callen had always imagined that it would only be used if he was in trouble, not the other way around.

"It could be nothing. She might just be sick."

"Hetty doesn't get sick, Sam."

"Maybe she's taking a personal day and doesn't want to be disturbed?"

This time, it was Deeks who was the voice of reason. "With Kensi in the hospital? I don't think so."

It had been worth a shot, but that made it official: something was wrong. And Sam didn't like it when his friends were in trouble. "We'd better go and find out then, hadn't we?"

"After we see Kensi." First things first, Callen thought, and then his cell pinged, showing a text message, which he scanned with growing disgust. "Vance wants to see us. By video-conference, of course."

"A command performance?" Sam had little time for their Director, trusting the man as far as he could throw him. Besides which, if it was really bad news, then Vance would come over to the west coast in person, if only to assert his superiority. The man's social skills were slightly less advanced than Attila the Hun's. "Then we're definitely seeing Kensi first."

"It's a pity Louise isn't here," Deeks sighed. "I would have loved to see her bring him down a few pegs."

Callen thought of how Louise had him on his hands and knees last night, and thought it best not to say anything. She really was quite remarkable and highly skilled in all sorts of unusual areas. Vance wouldn't stand a chance. God, he hoped she was okay. Life was suddenly infinitely more exciting with her around. He was in deep here and it felt amazing. Why hadn't he realised the difference one person could make? Louise; Kensi; Hetty. His life was full of these strong, incredible women and he couldn't afford to lose any of them. It was bad enough that Kensi was in hospital and Louise walking into God-knew what sort of situation, but now that Hetty had suddenly disappeared he was getting seriously worried. Enough was enough.


	37. Chapter 37

"That has to be the best looking hospital gown I've ever seen." Callen kissed Kensi on the cheek. "Next time I get injured, I want to come here." Although he wasn't sure red satin was exactly the right look for him. Maybe something in a teal blue would be better?

Kensi smiled radiantly and then pointed at Deeks. "Him."

"I kind of bought some stuff in the gift shop." Okay, he'd just about maxed out his credit card, but who cared? And hospital gowns sucked, everybody knew that. Which was why he'd tended to avoid wearing anything when he'd been shot, a decision Deeks had deeply regretted when Hetty came to visit and he had the very definite impression that she knew exactly what he was not wearing. That red satin night-thing was an inspired choice though, because Kensi looked great in red. Of course, she looked equally good in nothing at all… and Deeks realised that his mind was going round in circles. Too little sleep and too much coffee would do that to you.

"Why can't you use the same taste when selecting your own clothing?" Sam really wanted to know the answer to that question. Who wore plaid in LA? Apart from Deeks and wannabe country stars, of course. For a moment he had a mental image of Deeks in a cowboy hat, boots and chaps, but quickly dismissed that as being ridiculous.

"And this coming from a man whose garment of choice is a muscle shirt?" Sometimes it seemed that there was no justice in the world. If it wasn't red, black or dark brown and tight-fitting enough to show off his muscles, then Sam didn't wear it. Deeks wondered what he would do if Lycra and Spandex were suddenly declared illegal.

"You're looking good, Kensi. More like yourself." Callen was glad to see her hair was finally free of all the blood, but hearing her speaking, albeit with some hesitancy, was better than he could ever have imagined.

Kensi smiled back and saw where he was looking. She gestured first to her hair, which was slightly damp and starting to curl in the warmth of the hospital room, and then to Deeks.

"Yeah, I thought you'd feel better if your hair was washed." Deeks found himself staring at her, and wishing he could sit down beside her and run his fingers through her incredible hair. Why was it so hard to keep his mind on track this morning? He seemed to have sex on the brain for some strange reason. "So I had a word with Sandy out there."

Not that long ago Deeks would have been using all his charm to get the nurse's number as well and Sandy had seemed rather crestfallen when he'd not even made a token attempt at flirting with her. But Deeks wasn't entirely daft: he knew when he was onto a good thing, and besides which, Kensi's room was only a few feet away and she had ears like… well, like an animal with very good hearing. Plus, Kensi had always seemed to have some sort of sixth sense as far as he was concerned.

"Bettah," Kensi agreed. She was still getting used to this strange new voice of hers, this alien voice that could only manage to form single words at the moment. Some sounds were still out of reach, but it was a start. At least she could begin to communicate again. Feeling the warm water washing away all the dried blood had been wonderful, even if the nurse had to be careful to keep the incision from the probe and the staples holding the gash in her scalp together clean and dry. But the probe was out now, the wound was looking good and her hair was clean. All in all, Kensi was feeling almost human again. This afternoon, a speech therapist would come by to do an assessment and start her on some vocal exercises and then tomorrow… tomorrow she was going home, come hell or high water.

"You gave us a fright." Sam was prowling around the room.

"Sorry." It was slightly slurred, but they all understood her, which was the main thing. She could sweat over the small details later on.

"You should be. Just don't do it again, okay?" He reached out and took hold of her hand just to make sure she understood just what a shock she'd given everyone.

"Yes." That was fine by her. This wasn't exactly in Kensi's all-time list of experiences to be repeated. This one time would do her just fine.

Deeks grinned at her. "Listen, we've got to go on over to the Mission before Vance sends out an APB for us. We've got the dubious pleasure of being summoned to appear before his virtual image. And no, we don't know why. Shall I tell him you send your love?"

"No." If she hadn't been using all her pillows, Kensi would have thrown one at him.

"See you later, sweetheart."

"Eric?" Callen was speaking into his phone as they made their way back to the parking lot. "You can tell Vance we're on our way back now. And we've got Deeks with us. But first, you can tell us what the hell's happened to Hetty."

"I wish I could, Callen. Not over these channels though, okay? She's okay, don't worry. I'll brief you fully."

"Eric? Don't do this to me." But Callen found he was talking to a dead connection. "Okay, now I know I should be worried. Hetty is fine, but Eric can't say any more."

"Can't say, or won't say?"

"Does it really matter, Sam? He's not talking over the phone, and that's all there is to it." Callen's face was set into a mask of grim determination as he strode towards the car.

"So far, this year is really kind of shitty, isn't it?" It was only two days in and things were getting worse by the hour as far as Deeks could make out.

For once, Sam had to admit that Deeks had summed up the situation perfectly, and remarkably succinctly into the bargain. He should probably note this date down in his diary, for it wasn't likely to happen again in his lifetime. Of course, this was a leap year, which might account for it. And the world was supposed to end in 2012, which was a much more likely explanation.

* * *

><p>"Director Vance? We seem to be missing our Operations Manager. You wouldn't happen know her current whereabouts, would you?" Callen launched straight into full confrontational mode when the Director appeared on the view screen. He was not inclined to be diplomatic, or even tactful. There had been too many attempts at petty displays of power landed upon the LA office in recent months. Hetty had warned them that her position was not secure and now all the signs were that Vance had managed to depose her. Well, their esteemed Director had better watch out, because he might just have started a revolution. Or maybe even a <em>coup d'etat<em>.

"Miss Lang is currently on leave, Agent Callen."

"Gone to the islands to catch some waves?" Deeks asked innocently.

Vance ignored him. "Administrative leave."

"What?" Callen took a step towards the screen. He knew what that was a euphemism for: sent home with her tail between her legs. Ordered to leave the Mission until told otherwise, but still on full pay, pending a formal decision.

"It was my decision, and mine alone, Agent Callen." Vance waited for another interjection, and when none came he appeared to be mildly disappointed.

Callen was not fazed by long silences; on the contrary he was perfectly content to let the uncomfortable pause hang in the air and watch as Vance grew more uncomfortable by the second. It was obvious that it had been a long time since Vance had worked in an interrogation room, breaking down a suspect by whatever means worked. In Callen's experience, long silences disturbed people, discomfited them to the extent that they began to talk simply to try to regain some semblance of control. Vance was no exception.

"She formally declared a conflict of interest that rendered her current position incompatible with the operational requirements of this office."

"We closed the Foley case last night," Sam informed him.

"I'm aware of that, Agent Hanna. I was referring to your new assignment, which is investigating the death of Royston Schiff."

Deeks had been leaning languidly against the table, but he jerked upright at that. "That's a familiar name." He just couldn't quite place where he'd heard it before.

"It should be. He was a member of the 2nd Marine Regiment. Recently returned to Camp Lejeune after deployment in Afghanistan." Leon Vance sat back and waited for the pieces to fall into place.

"As in that video?" Callen knew investigations were already being carried out at the highest levels, both within the Pentagon and the Department of Defence, as the situation had the potential to spiral out of control. Already it was an international incident and NCIS teams were involved. Was this Vance's circuitous way on informing them they were going to Kabul?

"The very same. I'm glad to see you keep up with current affairs."

"Yeah, well sometimes I switch over to CNN during the breaks in the football." Hetty might be sneaky, Deeks thought, but at least she didn't engage in pointless games of cat and mouse like the Director. He knew that Vance didn't like him and the feeling was entirely mutual.

"Several other Marines have named Schiff as the person they thought had posted the video in question onto LiveLeaks."

Sam thought it was interesting that Leon Vance couldn't bring himself to actually give any details of what the Marines were accused of. "That would be the video showing the alleged abuse of dead Taliaban fighters?"

"Four US Marines caught on camera pissing on a corpse? Technically, that would be desecration of a foreign insurgent," Deeks mused and had the satisfaction of seeing Leon's mouth twitch in anger, so that the toothpick was almost dislodged. "I was just saying." He was also the picture of aggrieved innocence.

He tried, but Callen could not quite repress his joy at this statement. "You can take the boy away from the law, but you can't take the law out of the boy. Once a lawyer, always a lawyer, eh Deeks?"

It was worthwhile reminding Leon Vance that they weren't exactly wet behind the ears when it came to this business, no matter what he might think. Trying not to smile too broadly, Callen addressed the Director once again. "So where exactly do we come in? At this late stage…" It was over a week since news had broken and it was only now that Vance decided they were essential to the case? Something smelt decidedly rotten in the state of California.

"Schiff hanged himself. You are to investigate if that was suicide or if there was collusion. Or if he was murdered." Leon nodded towards Nell, who pulled up the scene of crime photos.

"Did he jump, or was he pushed?" There didn't seem to be any signs of a struggle that Deeks could see from the evidence photographs.

Deeks was certainly pushing it for all he was worth, Callen thought. Maybe pushing it a bit too far though. He frowned slightly in his direction, warning him to tone it down a bit.

"If you want to take it right back to the bare bones, Detective, then yes. It might be an over-simplistic assessment of the situation, but essentially that's the gist of it." Leon discovered he had bitten right through the toothpick and that he had left his spare supply back in his office, which did not sweeten his temper any.

"I like to get the facts straight. When there are facts. Is there any objective evidence to suggest this was anything other than what it seems? Any medical evidence? Any witnesses?" Vance had a reason for putting their team onto this operation and Deeks was determined to discover what that reason was. No more than Callen or Sam did he enjoy working in the dark while some far-distant puppet master pulled the strings.

"The autopsy is being carried out back here in Washington. And there is an allegation that it was not suicide, made by what we can only regard as a credible source: Marine Sergeant David Gillander."

Once again, Nell cued up the file photographs. She and Eric had pored over them for what seemed like hours, trying to trace any familial resemblance between the Sergeant and Hetty.

So far, so good. But one thing was still troubling Sam. "And how does Hetty fit into all this? Where's her conflict of interest?"

It might have just been a trick of the light, but he could have sworn there was an unholy gleam of joy in Vance's eyes. "Ms Lang had to excuse herself from this case, due to a conflict of interest that may have compromised her neutrality."

"Hetty?" Now the fire was blazing in Callen's eyes. "How can you suggest that Hetty would ever be anything but impartial?" It was tantamount to accusing her of treason.

"Because David Gillander is her son, Agent Callen."

The silence that descended was thick and palpable, a veritable miasma that seemed to surround them in an unpleasant, accusatory mist, obscuring what had once been clear and unambiguous.

"We'll take the case." Not that they had actually been given a choice, but Sam wanted to make it clear that the team were not just going to roll over and put their legs up into the air. Vance might be telling them to jump, but there was no way they were going to ask 'how high'? Rather, the essential question right now was 'why'? And if there was an answer to that question, then they would find it.

"I'm sending the files to the shared drive." Nell was staying as crisply professional as she could, while Eric had virtually disappeared into the background. His track record with authority figures was not exactly stellar at the best of times and today was one of these occasions where you could cut the atmosphere with a knife.

"I'd like a word with you, Agent Callen. Alone." Vance stared directly ahead, not bothering to even pretend to indulge in any of the conventional niceties, but just watching as everyone else filed out of the room.

"Has anyone ever heard Vance say 'please' or 'thank you'?" Deeks waited until they were safely downstairs before asking that. He turned to his desk and started rummaging in the drawers.

"Now you're just being ridiculous." Sam turned to Eric. "This is what you were being so cryptic about earlier on?"

"It's Hetty's business. Her private business. I didn't want to go broadcasting it around the place. Vance didn't give her a chance – he put her on administrative leave immediately." They all knew what that meant: full pay, but under a cloud of suspicion. Somewhere, someone was carrying out a detailed background check into Miss Henrietta Lang.

"Vance knew." Nell was certain of that. "He set up a trap and Hetty knew she had no choice but to walk straight into it. THere's no mention of any child on her file."

Nobody was crass enough to ask how Nell was in possession of that information. Personnel files were not within her level of access – her official level of access, that was.

"Do you reckon Callen knew?" If anyone could be said to be close to Hetty, than Callen fitted that description, even if it was a slightly uncomfortable fit. Hetty didn't let anyone get close to her, she seemed to erect a wall around herself and to repell all possible invaders when they came within a hundred yards.

"Maybe that's what Vance is trying to find out?"

"Maybe." Deeks sat down, pulled out his pen and signed his signature with a flourish at the bottom of his pre-approved application form. "Can you do me a favour, Nell? Get these over to Personnel as soon as possible." It had been a long time coming, but finally it was the right time to consolidate his position within NCIS and to break the last remaining tie with LAPD. Now he was officially an agent, Vance would find it a sight more difficult to get rid of Deeks on the pretence of some urgent under-cover just a little bit of luck, Louise would find her services were no longer required - at least, he hoped so.

* * *

><p>Sam could not have been farther from the truth when he had wondered if the Director was picking Callen's brains. Leon Vance had absolutely no interest in what degree of knowledge Callen might hypothetically possess about his boss: as far as he was concerned, the issue of Hetty Lang was already dealt with. The woman had been a particularly vexatious thorn in his flesh for far too long and he was jubilant that she had provided him with the necessary ammunition to remove her from the Mission. What was currently a temporary situation could become permanent without too much effort.<p>

"We find ourselves in an unfortunate situation, Agent Callen."

"Do we?" Callen asked, as politely as possible.

"We do. What with Miss Lang's unfortunate predicament."

"You're bringing Agent Hunter back?" Please God, not her. If Vance was not to be trusted, Hunter was a thousand times worse. The woman seemed to operate on a system of disinformation as a matter of routine and had raised power-play to a fine art – which was great, if you liked the black arts.

"No, unfortunately she is not available."

Thank heavens for small mercies, Callen thought. "How sad," he remarked and somehow managed to keep a straight face as he said that.

"Which leaves me with a dilemma."

Once again, Leon Vance paused, tacitly inviting Callen to comment. And once again, Callen managed to resist the temptation. It was a classic technique: once you found your opponents weakness, you then exploited it to the maximum. Strange, because he would have expected Vance to be well aware of that. However, in any display of one-upmanship, you had to take whatever opportunity presented itself and Callen had no qualms in remaining silent

Finally, Vance broke the impasse. "Which is why I'm appointing you Operations Manager of OSP. Pro-tem, of course."

"Of course," Callen said politely. "So are you telling me, or asking me?"

* * *

><p><em>And please welcome back devious plot bunny! It's been a while since he came out of the burrow and he's a little bit shy at all this attention, so please treat him gently.<em>


	38. Chapter 38

Callen was under no illusions as to the subtext of this request: Vance wanted him to conduct an internal investigation into Hetty, while at the same time finding out what Sgt. Gillanders could add to an on-going investigation that was creating international headlines around the world.

"I can make it a direct order – if I have to."

Which meant that if Callen refused to accept the position, then he would be suspended on a charge of gross insubordination. It looked as if Leon had won this particular round in their battle of wits, but this was only the opening salvo in what could prove to be a long and bitter war, one in which they had just been thrown right into the middle of. Callen was already feeling bad enough about his part in Kensi's injury, and now he was being asked to supervise an investigation into Hetty, the woman who had stood by him, mentored him and helped him to become the person he was today. Callen new exactly what a debt of gratitude he owed her and was under no illusions as to the contents of the poisoned chalice he had just been handed. His enquiries could end Hetty's career. And if Vance had his way, they would be the formal nail in her coffin.

"I think that would probably be best, Director. A direct order. In writing, if you don't mind. Then we both know exactly where we stand."

Leon lent back in his chair for the first time since the interview had begun and relaxed. "She taught you well, Agent Callen. But then I'd expect nothing less from Hetty. She's a living legend – I know that. But sometimes your idols can have feet of clay."

"We all serve someone. You take your orders from the politicians – I take mine from Hetty. I know who I trust." If that counted as throwing down the gauntlet, then so be it. Callen was not about to lie down and let Vance trample over him or his integrity.

"And I know I can trust you to be impartial and objective."

"Of course you can, Director. Like you said, Hetty taught me well."

The conference call ended and Callen wondered what the hell he had just got himself roped into, and how he was ever going to explain all this to Sam and Deeks. Not to mention Hetty. In fact, the whole of the LA office. With one stroke, Leon Vance had managed to turn everything upside down and inside out. Really, the man was a master strategist and Callen had just walked straight into his hands, like some helpless fly getting caught in a sticky spider's web. Bugger, as Hetty would undoubtedly say. Bugger, bugger, bugger.

* * *

><p>"He got you between a rock and a hard place, G. Don't beat yourself up about it."<p>

Deeks was having trouble processing the information. "When did Vance manage to grow such big balls?"

"Probably right about the same time as he was squeezing mine." The instant he said that, Callen wished he hadn't come up with that image: it was going to take a long time to suppress it.

"Does anyone else think we shouldn't mention this to Kensi?" What she didn't know, and all that… And right now Kensi had enough to think about without adding any more to her worries. What she needed right now was rest and recuperation and lots of tender loving care. Deeks was certain she was going to need lots of the latter, in fact he was probably going to have to devote his whole attention to showing her just how much he cared and exactly how tender and loving he could be.

Sam agreed. "That makes sense to me. Knowing Kensi, the first thing she'd do would be to rip Vance's balls off and serve them to him on a plate."

Silence fell as everyone contemplated that singularly unpleasant mental picture.

"Yeah, Kensi doesn't need to know about Hetty and Callen – she needs to stay in hospital a while longer. And she definitely doesn't need to know about this conversation." Because if Kensi ever found out that they had deliberately concealed information from her, then Deeks knew that it would not just be Vance's balls that were in danger.

"We need to speak to Hetty: that's priority number one. And we need all the background information on Gillander." There was one good thing about this unholy mess, Callen thought: it was going to keep him so busy that at least he wouldn't have much time to worry about Louise.

"And Deeks needs to go have a shower and change." Sam thought that only Deeks could manage to look dishevelled in what was clearly an expensive suit.

"That works for me." Given the choice, Deeks would never put on another suit ever again.

"We've already got a detailed dossier on Gillander's military career, but Eric and I will get digging into his background while you're talking to Hetty." Needless to say, Nell ha discovered that there was no mention of Gillander's putative relationship to the Marine Sergeant in either of their files.

"Do you reckon it's true – about Hetty having a son, I mean?"

"She admitted it," Eric said bluntly. "Vance boxed her into a corner so that she had no choice. Bastard. And he did it in front of us, quite deliberately, so that he'd have witnesses." Once again, Eric was reminded about just why he had such a problem with people in positions of authority – sooner or later, they all tried to screw you.

"And you never knew, G?"

"I never knew," Callen confirmed, running the date of Gillander's birth through his mind. It was starting to make sense, given the other events that were unfolding in Hetty's life at that time. Maybe that was why she had such a penchant for choosing to work with people who had screwed-up childhoods – as a way of righting some ancient wrong? Neither he, nor Deeks or perhaps even Kensi had exactly had the 'white picket fence' upbringing that was supposed to be synonymous with all that was best about America. Rather they grown up on the other side of the fence, looking over enviously at all the other kids living such normal lives that it hurt.

"Poor Hetty." Sam tried to imagine living his life without seeing his daughter growing up and knew that the prospect was unthinkable. So why had he deliberately put the most valuable thing in his life at risk by indulging himself, by letting himself think even for one second that he could have some sort of relationship with Jada? What the hell had he been thinking about?

"Poor Gillanders." Deeks wondered if the guy had any idea who his mother really was.

Callen wanted to say "poor us", because that was what everyone was thinking, but it seemed rather superfluous.

* * *

><p>"Where iz Louize?" Kensi was speaking very slowly but with remarkable clarity. She had to make a conscious effort to pronounce each syllable, and that confounded 's' sound was still proving elusive, but she was finding ways to cope, to work around it. The speech therapist had given her a variety of exercises and had assured her that with practice and perseverance, the old fluidity would return.<p>

Eric and Nell exchanged guilty looks.

"She's been asked to help out with a legal issue. Semi-officially." It wasn't a lie, it just wasn't the whole truth, Nell thought.

"An' Hetty?"

"She's had to take some unplanned leave. I think it was an urgent family matter." Eric was rather proud of the way he managed to phrase that and just hoped that Kensi wouldn't want to probe any further.

Kensi looked at them, guilt oozing out of every one of their pores. "And?" She felt a bubble of frustration start to rise inside her chest. There was something they weren't saying, something they were hiding from her. "All of it. Now."

"Do you want to tell her, or shall I?" Nell said desperately, playing for time. Okay, Kensi was clearly getting over the head injury, because her thought processes were as sharp as ever.

"Feel free." Because Eric was all out of ideas. Sit him before a computer screen and his thought synapses fired at light speed, but in a face-to-face situation, he kind of went to pieces.

"Well, this is completely off the record, okay? And you've got to promise not to tell anyone."

"I promise."

Nell drew in a deep breath. "Eric and I are kind of seeing each other." She reached down and picked up his hand, squeezing it tightly.

"Really?" Oh God, she sounded like Deeks, Kensi thought. Exactly like Deeks – even down to the slight drawl. Macy would have a field-day with that…

Macy. Oh my God, she'd forgotten all about Macy, who had winked out of her life just as suddenly as she had appeared in it. It made sense, in a strange sort of way, as if the circle was finally complete. Macy had appeared after Kensi had the first accident, and she left after Kensi had the second one. There was probably some sort of warped logic in there. It went some way to explaining the empty feeling inside her, because in just one week Macy had become such a huge part of her life. Things were going to be very different without her around.

"It kind of took me by surprise too," Eric confessed. Who would have thought Nell would be such a tiger? She simply wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. Not that he was exactly protesting terribly hard. In fact, he hadn't protested at all, Eric had just let Nell have her wicked way with him. There was one keyboard that would never be the same again, though. Luckily, Eric knew where the spares were kept and had managed to make a swap without anyone being any the wiser.

"In the Mission?" Kensi raised a disapproving eyebrow. "Bad." She shook her head from side to side. "Very bad." But probably very good too. Just as soon as she could talk properly, she would have to suggest it to Deeks. Or maybe she should just spring it on him, catch him unawares and make him an offer he couldn't possibly refuse? She'd have to think about that some more.

"How did you know we had sex in Ops?" Nell blurted out, reddening in an instant.

Kensi just smiled enigmatically. It seemed that there was an advantage in having a speech problem, especially when you had found out things about your colleagues' sex lives, courtesy of a dead woman. Poor Macy. It was so strange not having her around anymore. Kensi wondered if it was totally weird that she missed dead-Macy more than she had ever missed living-Macy, and decided that on balance it probably was. In future, she was going to make sure the people in her life knew how important they were to her.

"So, when are you getting out of here?" Eric decided this was as good a time to change the topic of conversation as any. He wasn't entirely comfortable with having his sex life discussed quite so openly.

"Maybe tomorrow. Hope so."

"Do you want me to come and stay over with you for the first couple of nights?" Nell offered. "Just so you're not left all on your own?"

"I think Kensi might just have other plans for her sleepover." He kind of had his own plans too, Eric thought. Although the prospect of a threesome with Kensi was rather tempting.

"Sorry. So it's official then? You and Deeks?" There was almost a simper in Nell's voice.

Kensi looked down at her hands and then plucked at the blanket nervously. "I guess."

"Congratulations."

Eric looked at the two women, who seemed to be exchanging mutually self-satisfied looks and shook his head. He would never understand the female mind, not if he lived to be a hundred. "It took you long enough."

"You're a fine one to talk. If I'd waited for you to make the first move, I'd still be waiting," Nell informed him tartly. "So don't start picking on Kensi."

The look of outraged indignation on her face was so priceless that Kensi started to laugh and as she did so, she realised that the sound was exactly as she remembered. So at least there was one part of her voice that was working normally. Now, if only she could persuade the rest of it to follow suit. It was all very well being the strong and silent type, but it was a bit frustrating not to be able to join in with the quick-fire repartee, almost like trying to follow a conversation in a language you had once been fluent in, but which had started to slip away.

* * *

><p>The sleek lines of the ultra-modern, split-level condo in Century City were far removed from what Callen had considered Hetty's preferred style of accommodation, which generally ran to what could best be described as classically understated architecture, overlaid with an huge accumulation of eclectic clutter. This apartment was chic and minimalist, with large expanses of glass, dark-stained wooden floors and the clean lines of Scandinavian furniture. There was no extraneous clutter, but unlike Callen's house, this was clearly designed to make a statement, which in this case was that less was definitely more.<p>

"Thank you for coming, gentlemen." Hetty even looked different, wearing loose-fitting judo pants and a tunic style blouse. "How is Ms Blye."

"Kensi's doing great." Deeks looked at her carefully. "And how are you?"

"I've been better." Hetty gestured to a modular seating unit. "You took the job then, Mr Callen?"

There was no way she could officially know that, Callen thought. But Hetty could always read a situation better than anyone he had ever met. For her, this would have simply been a matter of objectively assessing the situation and working out the most probably outcome, with coldly impeccable logic. "I did. I thought that I should be as near to the throne as possible." There was nothing like having a position of power from which to launch one's attack, after all. But that did nothing to assuage the feelings of guilt and betrayal he was battling.

"That was very wise of you. Besides which, I imagine Leon did not exactly give you a choice in the matter." Her mouth twisted as she said this. Damn Leon for treating people as if everyone was as devoid of compassion and decency as he was. Not everyone was so desperate to shimmy up the corporate ladder that they would willingly knife their superior in the back. He might just have made the biggest mistake of his life when he appointed Callen to step into her job, because Callen had more integrity, decency and honesty in his little finger than Vance had in his entire body. And if Leon thought he could be ruthless, then just wait until he saw Callen in action.

"Not if I wanted to avoid joining you in a period of enforced leave, no," Callen said bluntly.

Hetty sighed and then walked over to one of the floor to ceiling windows. "I apologise. I seem to have inadvertently put you in an untenable position - all of you."

"Not you, Hetty. Vance." Sam was under no illusions about that fact. Hetty was honourable and straight and she treated her agents like people: people who went out every day and did unthinkable things, things that the general public never even contemplated went on as they engaged in their busy yet mundane lives.

"Thank you, Sam." The use of his first name told Sam just how deeply this was affecting Hetty. "He told you about David, I imagine."

"Just his name. And the fact that he is your son." Callen was careful to keep his voice as neutral as possible.

"David is a decent man: you can trust him."

"I wouldn't expect anything less from your son."

Hetty turned around and her face was suddenly vulnerable, all the feelings she normally hid were in plain sight. "I'm afraid I can lay no claim to that. You'll have to thank his parents for that. His adoptive parents." She sighed, a deep sigh that seemed to arise from the soles of her feet. "It's a long story, and I suppose I should start at the beginning."

"You don't have to. We only need to know what's pertinent to the investigation."

"I believe I owe you this much, Mr Callen. Besides which, it would be nice to finally be able to tell someone." A secret kept for so long could begin to prey on your soul, eating away at it piece by piece. And besides which, she was so very proud of David, and it would be good to share that with someone – to share it with her friends. "And besides which, you are partially responsible."

A small, knowing smile crept across Callen's face. "I did wonder," he admitted.

"And I'm officially confused. Can Sam and I have the Cliff Notes to this conversation, please?"

"It started just after we lost Clara – Mr Callen's mother. I had known her as a young agent, and it was a shock to find out that she had two children. As you know, Clara was killed, and the children disappeared. After a while, everyone forgot about them. But not me. These children existed, and I never stopped looking for them. And while I was looking, I realised that there was something missing in my own life."

It had been a long time ago, and she had been much younger, almost a different person, but Hetty still had the same hopes and dreams of her younger self. She just had a whole lot more of experience and cynicism to temper those dreams, and yet they still burnt just as fiercely. The difference was that now she was able to hide them a little better. Until now.

"I realised that I was lonely and that I did not want to live my life alone."


	39. Chapter 39

_Apologies for the very late posting of yesterday's chapter. Blame it on evil plot bunny exerting a malign influence on me._  
><em>(Actually, I uploaded the chapter to the server and then completely forgot to add it to the story until a reader contacted me to ask if everything was alright because I hadn't posted my daily installment!)<em>

* * *

><p>"I realised that I was lonely and not want to live my life alone."<p>

The studied emptiness of the chic condo seemed to mock this confession. Hetty didn't even have a goldfish for company, Callen realised, far less the traditional feline companion of the spinster lady from fairytales. He was conscious that finally Hetty had revealed the inner scars she had carried with such silent fortitude for far too many years. While she was not requesting any pity, each man could understand how deeply this revelation had cost her. They were also aware of the stark contrast between their own lives – enriched with the blessing of partners – and her solitary existence.

"So I deliberately sought to change that, by opening myself up to consider opportunities I had previously dismissed. The world was a very different place back then, especially in the European theatre, where I was based. It was exciting and terrifying in equal measures and I wanted to experience everything that life could offer."

Hetty turned to stare out of the window once again. "And I did. I found that one person who made the world seem that little bit brighter, who made my life worth living. We were very happy and we planned to be together forever."

The old pain flared up, as fresh and searing as ever and for a long moment she could not speak, remembering once again that frozen lake in central Europe and an evening spent skating hand in hand underneath the stars, thinking how perfect the moment was. How right she had been, for it was even more beautiful in retrospect, preserved forever in the past. "When we discovered I was expecting a baby, it was like the crowning jewel to our love. We were so very, very happy and we wanted our baby so very much." Her voice tailed off into nothingness.

"What happened?" Callen asked softly.

"He died," Hetty said simply. "He was one of many men and women who died in our line of business, and whose deaths were never mentioned, barely even acknowledged by the authorities. And with his death, all my plans turned to ashes. I realised that without a partner, I could not give my child the life he or she deserved – the life we had planned together for our baby. So I applied for an extended leave of absence, which my superiors thought was to adjust to my grief and I made arrangements." The baby had deserved better than a mother who roamed the world like a gypsy, who lived under a myriad of different identities. How had she ever thought she could give a child a safe, secure life? The answer to that was easy: she had been in love and anything was possible when you were in love: you could climb a mountain before breakfast and hardly stop to draw breath because the world was full of infinite possibilities. It was only in the cold light of dawn that dreary reality imposed itself upon your dreams and shattered them into a thousand fragments, scattering them to the four winds so that they could never be rebuilt.

She had held her son only once, right after his birth, and had marvelled at how deeply he resembled his father. Besieged by an upswell of emotions that threatened to overcome her resolutions, Hetty had handed the baby over after only a brief cuddle, knowing the nurse was taking him to his new family who would love and cherish him almost as much as she did. But they would be able to give him a normal life. She had forced herself to be stoic as she watched the nurse disappear, and closed her eyes to see once again the small, crumpled face, imprinting it on her memory forever. Better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all. Hetty had experienced both love and loss twice over, and had been determined never to expose herself to such wrenching sorrow ever again.

"Five years ago, David traced me. I had left a letter for him, should he ever wish to know more about his birth parents. I felt that I owed him that much, to let him know how very much he was wanted and that he was born out of love. I have never stopped loving him." Hetty walked back over to the agents with a fierce fire burning in her eyes. "And I believe he is an honourable man, who has served his country with distinction."

"I wouldn't expect anything less," Sam assured her, wondering if he would ever have been brave enough to make the same decision. Neither Callen or Deeks could have any idea of the emotions that overwhelmed you when you first held your baby, but he did. It was something that Sam would never forget because in that instant you were hit by this immense flood of love, an emotion so powerful that you wondered how you had ever existed before this tiny person came into your life. That instant was like having the meaning of life suddenly revealed and your purpose on earth made clear: you were here to look after this new life, and to love this baby until the end of time. And somehow Hetty had been able to say goodbye to her son so that he would have a better life… Sam had never admired her more.

"How did Vance find out? Adoption records are sealed, aren't they?"

Deeks nodded. "They are. But you only need give the right person, in the right place, the right amount of money at the right time." Everything was available, after all. You just needed the right contacts and Leon Vance was ideally placed to have done such a thing.

"If I was paranoid, I might be tempted to believe that Director Vance had a personal vendetta against me. As it is, I just think the man is a complete pillock." Sometimes one simply had to resort to a good old Anglo-Saxon expletive, Hetty thought.

"If it wasn't personal before, it is now," Deeks assured her. There were just too many co-incidences popping up to ignore: the conveniently urgent call from LAPD; the attack on Kensi; Callen's appointment as temporary manager and now the attempt to remove Hetty permanently. "Someone has it in for our team. So far Sam's the only one who's been immune. I just wonder what weakness of yours they're going to try to exploit?"

Deeks had clearly said this in jest, but Sam felt an icy finger run slowly down the entire length of his spine. He knew exactly what was going to happen, because he had already set all the wheels into motion. He had literally been the architect of his own downfall and given Vance not only the ammunition he required to pull his life apart, but he'd loaded the gun and handed it right to him on a silver platter. By giving into a moment's temptation with Jada Sam might just as well have torn his family apart with his bare hands and with that act destroyed his entire reason for living. Why had he been so stupid to throw away everything he had for a few random encounters with a woman he hardly knew? What did the few hours they had spent together compare with the years he had spent with his wife?

"I've got a pretty good guess," he admitted realising that his stomach was churning and he felt sick. What have I done? What the hell have I done? And how did I ever think I could get away with it?

"Is it something you can deal with?" Hetty asked presciently. She knew exactly the thoughts that Sam was torturing himself with, because she had seen this moment coming for some time now. However, she had been helpless to do anything, because the human heart is remarkably resistance to outside interference and it was certain that Sam would have resented any attempt to counsel him as to the folly of his actions and would probably have denied he was involved except in a strictly professional capacity. In a strange way, this threat could not have come at a more opportune moment, because now Sam was finally being forced into action, to make up his mind if he wanted to stay married or to start a new relationship. You could only lead a life of lies and duplicity for so long before they started to collapse all around you and trap you in the wreckage. "Perhaps you might be able to take some preventative action?"

"Maybe." It was worth a shot – definitely. He had to give it his best shot, because right now Sam had the feeling he was holding his life in his hand, like so many grains of sand that were trickling slowly through his fingers, disappearing one by one. There was no time to lose because the clock was ticking. Better she hear it from him than from an anonymous telephone call.

"Then go. Go right now." She smiled at him. "Believe me, Sam – sometimes you have to put your personal life first, or you will regret it for the rest of your life." Hetty handed him a set of keys. "My Jaguar. I know I can trust you with it."

Deeks waited until the door shut behind him. "And then there were two." Was this what they meant by the law of diminishing returns?

"They do say that small is beautiful," Hetty reminded him. "I have complete faith in you and Mr Callen."

It was a good thing that someone was feeling positive, because Deeks wondered how things could possibly get any worse. It was probably time to try to cut some of the tension. "Do I have to call you 'Mr Callen', now you're in charge?"

"Don't be stupid, Deeks. 'Boss' will do nicely. Or even 'Leader'. Whichever you prefer."

"How about neither?"

Hetty decided it was time to change the subject. "I believe congratulations are in order, Mr Deeks. Or should that be Agent Deeks?"

Callen turned around, astonishment written across his face. "You did it? You really did it? It took you long enough."

"That's what Sam said." Why did everyone have to tell him that? Wasn't a man entitled to take some time over the big decisions in life? Delayed gratification could be great, once you got over the frustration.

"Which just proves my point." Callen held out his hand. "Good to have you with us, buddy – at last."

"We few, we happy few…" Deeks said.

Hetty smiled at him. "Remember what King Henry also said: cry havoc and let lose the dogs of war." Leon Vance had no idea what he had just unleashed. That feeling was only reinforced when Callen read an incoming message on his cell.

"Looks like your sister proved she was too hot for LAPD to handle. Either that or we've just seen the shortest long-term undercover operation in history." And all of a sudden he had big plans for tonight

"Why don't we just call the Guinness Book of Records?" Deeks asked, and tried to damp down the feeling of relief that his sister was out of something she was not equipped to handle. Louise was like a Maltese puppy that thought she was a German Shepherd. And he was going to give her such a chewing out when he got hold of her. And right after that, he was going to hug her like he'd never hugged her before and make her promise to stop being so stupid. One idiot was enough for any family and he had staked a prior claim.

"I've got a better idea. I think we could possibly do with some expert legal advice on this case. You wouldn't happen to know a good lawyer who might be free?" It would keep Louise out of trouble and close by his side at the same time. God, sometimes he was a complete genius.

"One who's willing to work after hours, in very close contact with the Operations Manager?" Deeks was talking, but Callen wasn't listening.

* * *

><p>"This is a hospital. No dogs allowed." The security guard tried to bar the entrance to Deeks and Monty. "On the grounds of hygene."<p>

"NCIS." It felt astonishingly good to finally be able say that. "And so is he. We're both here on official business."

"No dogs allowed." Clearly the man had a very limited vocabulary. "Even the clean ones. Which he ain't."

"But service animals are excepted, right?" Deeks gestured to Monty, who was sitting down on the sidewalk and scratching with great enthusiasm.

"That's not a service animal." It was a flea-bitten mutt, that's what it was. And a particularly ugly one at that.

"Monty is a 'he' and he's got a distinguished service record." Maybe that was pushing the point slightly, Deeks thought. "But the point is, he's a service animal – trained in assisting those with communication difficulties. Like my partner, who was injured in the course of her duties. He's essential to her recovery." And that was a downright, barefaced lie, but Deeks didn't care. Monty had been alone all day and was looking rather more woebegone than usual.

"So why isn't he wearing one of those special coats?"

Good point. Why wasn't he? Well, mainly because he didn't actually have one, Deeks thought and extemporised quickly. "He had one – but he ate it. Dog's great at communication skills, not so hot on everything else." As if to prove the point, Monty stuck his head firmly between his legs and started to lick himself with decided pleasure and dedication. "I'm working on it. That too."

"Good luck with that." That had to be the scruffiest, most stupid-looking mutt he'd ever seen. The guard looked at the pair again and Deeks gave him a wholesome smile, the one that said 'you can trust me. I'm just a regular guy'. What the heck, his shift ended in about ten minutes, so what did he care? "Go on. I never saw you."

Okay, so maybe it hadn't been the best-thought out plan in the world. Next time Deeks would have to make sure Monty understood his role in the proceedings or they might not be so lucky. "You behave or there's no NPR for a week."

Monty shot him a reproachful look and trotted along at Deeks side, only stopping once to lift his leg on a glossy green ficus which he evidently considered was in need of a good watering.

"I can't take you anywhere, can I? Come on, this is important to me, okay? I don't ask much of you, do I?" And when he did ask something, Monty generally did the opposite.

Tail wagging briskly, Monty ignored this and instead made unerringly towards Kensi's room, towing Deeks along in his wake.

"You will behave, right?" Surely there wasn't much more Monty could do to disgrace himself? Deeks gave him a stern look, which the dog ignored completely and knocked on the door. "I brought you a visitor."

"You shouldn't have. Really."

Kensi was not only sitting up in a chair, she was dressed. And unless he was very much mistaken there was a familiar spark in her eyes. Maybe bringing Monty had been a bad idea? Because while two was company, three was very definitely a crowd, even if one of that trio was canine.

"Monty insisted. Said he wanted to make sure you were okay."

For once Monty actually did the right thing by going over to sit beside Kensi, laying his chin on her knee and looking soulfully into her eyes.

"Hey, Monty." Kensi reached out and stroked the rough fur, smiling as the dog licked her hand briefly. So Monty wasn't first in the queue when they were handing out good looks? It didn't matter, because nobody was perfect and he was really rather endearing, even if he did have a disconcerting habit of trying to stick his tongue in your mouth when he kissed you. "I'm fine." As long as she spoke slowly, thought about each single sound and spoke in short sentences, then everything was fine, Kensi thought. As long as you ignored the fact that she sounded slightly drunk, which wasn't quite as easy as it sounded. Maybe if she actually was drunk, she might sound sober? That might be worth trying.

"You look better than fine. You look great."

"You look tired."

Deeks tried to remember the last time he'd got a full night's sleep, but quickly gave that up as a bad job. Between work and Kensi, sleep had come a very poor third. Maybe they could make up for all that at the weekend and just not get out of bed at all? "I've been kind of pre-occupied."

"You need your bed."

"I couldn't agree more. As long as you're in it." He flashed that insouciant grin, the one that made Kensi want to smack him, because he was so sure of his winning charm. She wanted to smack him and then kiss him so hard that she would suck all the air out of his lungs. An awful thought struck her: supposing the injury had affected her kissing as well as her speech? It made perfect sense, seeing they both used lips and tongues. Oh God no, not that. How could fate be so cruel? Hadn't she suffered enough in the last week? There was only one way to find out.

"Come here." She crooked her little finger, and Deeks obediently moved his chair nearer. "No. Closer."

"Have I told you how much I love it when you're bossy? Which is pretty much all of the time."

Kensi didn't bother to answer, mainly because she had grabbed the neck of Deeks' shirt and pulled him close enough that their noses were almost touching. "Shut up and kiss me."

It was probably the longest sentence she had managed so far, but Kensi didn't care because she had much more important things on her mind, like kissing Deeks for what seemed like the first time in days. Kissing him properly, the sort of kiss that felt as if it could go on all day and all night, maybe even last right up to the end of time; a long, deep kiss that made your head swirl and your stomach do lazy back-flips while your heart pounded so hard it felt as if it might just leap out of your chest.

Monty wisely decided to remove himself from the immediate scene of action and slunk away to crawl underneath the bed. Which just went to prove that he really was a remarkably intelligent animal, despite all appearances to the contrary.

"Now I know you're feeling better." Actually, Deeks didn't think Kensi could possibly ever feel any better if she tried, because that kiss had been amazing. It was just a pity that there wasn't a lock on the inside of the door or he'd be tempted to see if she felt any better lying down on the bed.

"Much better. Going home tomorrow."

"So, do you want to come and stay at my place, or should I come and stay at yours?" Deeks thought that he might manage to hold out for tonight, but that would definitely be his limit because he was aching for Kensi. Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.

"Don't mind." Right now, all Kensi wanted to do was to kiss him again, partly to prove that this wasn't just a fluke, but mainly because is felt so damned good. Who cared where they slept, as long as there was a bed?

"We can talk about it later." Deeks was finding it very hard to concentrate when Kensi was sliding her hand up inside his shirt. "Before I forget, I've got something for you." He pulled reluctantly away to pull out a slim wallet and place it in her hands.

"My badge?" Kensi opened it and then saw a familiar face looking up at her from and NCIS ID. "Your badge? When? Why?"

"My badge. I signed the papers today." He took hold of her hand. "Because I finally realised where I really belonged. And I knew it was time to make a commitment."

There was nothing else for it: Kensi simply had to start kissing him all over again.

* * *

><p><em>Okay - important announcement: I'm afraid that you are going to have to wait a few days to find out if Sam can manage to save hims marriage and to learn more about Dave Gillander, not to mention what happens when Kensi gets home (though I bet you can take an educated guess). Sadly, work is going into overdrive right now, which means 12 hour days at the office. I'll be back with more as soon as possible though.<em>


	40. Chapter 40

_In which Sam is most definitely not a happy bunny..._

* * *

><p>After several basically sleepless nights, Deeks had gone home exhausted, given Monty a run along the beach, stood under a hot shower for several minutes and then rolled into bed, fully intending to sleep soundly until morning. Instead, he was rewarded by possibly the most vivid and greatest dream ever. It involved Kensi wearing his golden 'Rocky' shorts and nothing else, except a pair of tap shoes. The reasons for this were not entirely clear and it was certainly an oddly esoteric combination, but one which worked just fine, as far as he was concerned. In his dream, Deeks was sitting there, watching in rapt fascination until after a while, it dawned on his subconscious mind that perhaps the sound of the tap shoes was getting louder and, more than that, was accompanied by a loud and decidedly masculine voice. In an instant the dream disappeared into the ether, but the hammering on his front door continued.<p>

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" He blinked blearily at Sam.

"It's about ten-thirty. Lost your watch?"

"I took it off before I went to bed," Deeks said dryly.

"You were in bed?" Sam looked nonplussed and then took in the t-shirt and boxers. "Sorry."

"No problems. I had to get up anyway as some idiot was hammering at the door." Scratching his head, Deeks staggered back through to the living-room, where Monty was curled up in a chair, chasing rabbits in his sleep. "Do you want a beer?"

"What?" The man was barely awake and he was going to start drinking? Sam was beginning to have a whole lot more respect for Deeks. That was pretty hard-core.

"Sam – there's a reason you're here. And I know it's only because Callen's otherwise engaged – with my sister, but I'd rather not go there, thank you very much. So, I'm guessing you need a place to crash and maybe you might want to talk, right?" The holdall in Sam's hand was kind of a giveaway that he'd been shown the door, but it was the look on his face that got to Deeks: Sam looked like a man who had just walked away from a car crash without a mark on him – completely stunned and wondering what the hell had just happened.

"Right. Kind of." Talk about it? With Deeks? Deeks?

"Yeah, I know. You don't go in for emotions. Or talking about them. Which is where the beer comes in. We can put on the TV, have a beer and pretend to watch the game so we don't have to look at each other. And once you've drunk enough, you can tell me about it." Opening the fridge, Deeks pulled out a six-pack. "How does that sound?"

"Like you've done this before." Sam accepted a beer, opened it and drank half of the contents in one swallow. It tasted insanely good.

"Maybe I have. Once or twice. It's even better if you swap the game for a strip club, but I'm guessing that wouldn't go down too well?" Clearly Sam's wife had not appreciated learning about his liaison with Jada and he was going to be treading on egg-shells for some time to come.

"You guess right."

"I think we'll give that one a body-swerve. Mainly because Kensi would kill me if she ever found out. And she would. That woman's like a human bloodhound."

Deeks sat down and switched on the TV, flicked through the channels and finally found a game. It was halfway through, but that didn't matter. The purpose was only to provide a focal point to look at and some comforting background noise to fill in any awkward silences. Apart from that, it was just moving wallpaper.

"I think I've just ruined my marriage." Sitting down beside him, Sam drank the remainder of his beer and found that another one was immediately put into his hand. He stared fixedly at the TV.

"Really? For good or is there any chance?"

"I don't know." Holding the beer bottle in both hands, Sam rolled it slowly back and forwards. He wanted to throw it at the wall, out of the window, maybe even right through the TC screen – anything. "I was so stupid, Deeks. How could I be so stupid?"

"Because you weren't thinking?" He knew what it was like, how sometimes you were pretty much ruled by your gonads and sense ceased to exist.

"I was thinking. That's the problem. I was thinking about Jada and how sweet she was and how it didn't really count if we didn't make love. And I was wrong." He'd behaved like a man intoxicated, dragged along helplessly, when all along Sam knew that he'd had a choice, that he could have turned his back, refused to become involved. But a part of him had given his heart away. So he'd told himself she was vital to the operation and that he could justify everything. Sam was good at lying, he could maintain a cover. He just hadn't realise how good he was at lying to himself.

"Did she know already? Your wife, I mean." Like Sam, Deeks was looking straight ahead at the TV screen, but without seeing a thing. This was probably the longest conversation he'd ever had with Sam, and definitely the most personal. Normally Sam fiercely guarded his privacy and made sure that his private life stayed just that – private. Deeks knew he had a wife and a child, and he was almost certain the child was a girl, but he knew nothing more: not their names, the child's age – nothing.

"My wife? No, she didn't have a clue. Which just made it worse." One minute she thought she had a decent marriage, the next minute it was lying in smithereens all around her. Sam had confessed that he'd been tempted, very tempted, but that in the end nothing had happened. And that had not mattered at all.

"_So you think it makes a difference that you didn't have sex with her?"_

"_Doesn't it?"_

_The look she had shot him was full off contempt and disgust. "Sex is just sex. But I'm talking about what's in your head and what's in your heart. Did you love her, Sam?"_

"_I don't know."_

_She stared at him, her face hard with resignation. "The truth. For once in your life, just tell me the truth. I'm fed up with being treated like an idiot. For once, just stop pretending that I don't know you're never where you say you are and tell me the truth. You owe me that much. Did you love her?" It was an ultimatum and they both knew it. _

"_A bit. But not as much as I love you." Sam knew that was true, knew that he could not begin to imagine life without her. And he knew he had more power to hurt her than anyone else in the whole world, because she loved him. Or had loved him. Right now, she looked as if she hated him. If telling Jada that he did not love her had been difficult, this was infinitely worse._

"_Too bad. Because I don't know if I even like you anymore. You're not the man I thought you were." She'd thought she had a decent marriage, that she knew him intimately, and now it turned out that she had been wrong – and she'd been a fool. How long had it been going on? Was this Jada woman the only one? Was she waiting for him right now? _

"_Can you give me another chance?"_

_Right now, she just wanted him out of her house, because she wanted to curl up into a little ball, and try to block out all the hurt. "I don't know. I don't know anything anymore. Except that I think I want you to go." She couldn't trust him anymore, that was for sure. And she didn't know if she ever wanted to see him again, because it just hurt so much that she wasn't quite sure how she could manage to go on living._

The worst thing was that he could understand exactly how she felt and knew that he deserved everything he could throw at him, even this effective banishment. So Sam had packed a few things quickly and then he'd gone, had driven around aimlessly for hours and then finally summoned up every ounce of courage he'd ever possessed and turned up at Deeks' door. Because right now, Sam Hanna needed help like he'd never needed it in his entire life.

"You've got to talk to her, you know. Tell her you know what a jerk you've been, apologise and promise that you'll never do it again." As he spoke, Deeks could remember hearing those words so many times after one or other of the explosive arguments that had punctuated his childhood. And then there would be a brief idyll before the rows started once again. Looking back, he wondered why his parents had ever got together in the first place, far less stayed together, because most of the time they didn't even appear to like each other.

"I apologised already. But I'll do it as many times as I have to. Until she believes me." He'd never needed forgiveness before, but Sam was craving it right now.

"You've got to mean it. And you've got to want it to work and you've got to want to make it work. Both of you. Because otherwise you might as well just stay away and call it quits." Deeks was suddenly aware that he badly needed a beer, so he grabbed one and then handed Sam another. "It's not going to be fair on your kid otherwise. Believe me, I heard enough false promises to last me a lifetime. And it screws you up."

"I've really screwed up this time."

"Yup, you have. But you've still got a chance, Sam. You can try to make it work. But only if you want to. Otherwise you're just going to mess your kid up even more."

"She doesn't know anything's wrong."

"You sure about that?" Deeks looked at him, long and hard. "She knows, Sam. The kids always know. No matter how hard you try to hide it, no matter how hard they try to pretend everything is fine, deep down they know. And most of the time they think it's their fault. Trust me on that."

"Shit." So that was another person he'd managed to hurt. He seemed to have the reverse of the Midas touch, Sam though, with everyone he touched ending up hurting.

They sat in silence, nominally watching a game unfold on the screen, each man thinking about their respective nightmare.

Eventually Sam broke the impasse. "What should I do?"

Under other circumstances, the thought of Sam asking him for relationship advice would have reduced Deeks to tears of hysterical laughter. This wasn't funny though. This was real life, stripped right down to the basic building block of a relationship gone wrong, and some people defined themselves by their ability to form and maintain relationships. If your relationship failed, then it followed that you were a failure too. Would Sam be one of those people? Deeks wasn't sure, but he knew that the man needed help. He just wasn't sure he was the right person to give him any sort of advice, because what did he know about relationships, except that his parents had had a really crappy one.

Still, this was important, so Deeks thought about it carefully. "Give it your best shot. And then make sure you do what's best for your kid. That's the important thing. Make sure she knows you both love her and that you always will, and that she's going to be safe and still see you, whatever happens."

"Is that what your folks did?" Sam asked curiously.

"My parents?" Deeks' laugh was completely mirthless. "Hell no, Sam. They pretty much did the reverse. They had all their arguments right in front of me, and half the time they dragged me into the middle of it. Usually round about the time the fists started flying." He looked at the beer in dismay. "I haven't drunk that much. I must be more sleep-deprived than I thought."

What was he thinking about, telling all this stuff to Sam? Louise and Ray were the only people who knew the truth; Ray because he had been there when it was all going down and Louise because she was Louise. But it wasn't something Deeks liked to talk about, because then he was forced to remember it all: all the terror, all the terrible guilt that it was all his fault and the fear that they would both just leave him. He knew from school that some parents squabbled about who would get custody of the kids, but Deeks had been more afraid that neither his parents would want him, that they would fight about who would have to have him. He'd always seemed more of a burden than a blessing to them. So most of the time, Deeks deliberately chose to forget, telling himself that he'd got past it, it didn't matter because now he'd built his own life and none of that mattered anymore. One of these days, he might even get around to believing it.

"I'm sorry, Deeks." And Sam genuinely was: for getting the other man out of his bed, for involving Deeks in his problems and for reawakening the ghosts of his childhood.

"It was a long time ago. And anyway, it taught me how to duck." Deeks tried to lighten the atmosphere and then attempted to smother a yawn, but with little success on either front.

"Go to bed. You look like hell."

"Thanks. You know you can stay for as long as you want?"

"Yeah. I know." Which was why Sam turned up here in the first place – because he had known that despite what had happened he still had somewhere he could go to, and he still had a friend who would take him in and try to help. Which was a lot more than many people had. "And Deeks? Thanks." When the chips were down, he knew that he could count on Deeks, because he was one of the team.

"Any time." Deeks raised an arm in farewell and shuffled back to bed, wondering why the world had to be so fucked up. One little mistake on Sam's part – allowing himself to become attracted to Jada in the first place – had escalated into this unholy mess, so that the man was now having to sit and watch his whole life fall apart. And he was never going to recaputure that dream with Kensi in the gold shorts. Damn.

Sam sat staring sightlessly at the TV and contemplating the remaining two bottles of beer. There wasn't much point in letting them get all warm. And he was probably going to feel crap in the morning anyway, so he might as well drink them. Then again, that was giving in. So he had a choice: he could sit here and wallow in grief, kicking himself metaphorically, or he could start to fight for his marriage. There really wasn't any choice when you looked at it like that.

* * *

><p>"Callen? Are you awake?"<p>

"It's only just after dawn." Callen kept his eyes firmly shut and reached out across the bed, only to find an empty space where just moments before there had been warm, wonderful Louise.

"I know. And it looks like it's going to be a beautiful day. There' not a single cloud in the sky and the sun is shining." Louise was standing looking out of the bedroom window and there was definitely a wheedling tone to her voice.

"This is California. That basically constitutes a normal day." He patted the empty side of the bed invitingly.

"Stop being such a grouch. We could go out for breakfast." The siren cry of caffeine was calling and that meant Louise was essentially powerless to resist.

"Or you could come back to bed." That sounded a much better option, but it was too late, because Callen could hear the sound of running water, indicating that Louise had nipped into the bathroom and was already having a shower. She was determined all right. Once Louise was set on something, then she went for it with all her might and main, full steam ahead. And this was obviously one of those occasions when time was of the essence, because by the time Callen had hauled himself out of bed and made it into the bathroom, with the clear intention of joining her in the shower, Louise was already standing by the sink, wrapped in a towel and brushing her teeth.

"Don't be too long, will you? I'm dying for a coffee."

There was no point in telling her that there was coffee in a jar in the kitchen, because Callen had tried that once before and received a blank stare and then the withering response of "I meant real coffee."

"How about you go and get us some coffee and we could drink it in bed?" That seemed an eminently sensible compromise. There was over two hours before he had to report in to the Mission and you could accomplish a hell of a lot in two hours.

"I thought we'd agreed we were going out for breakfast?"

Sometime you had to know when to admit defeat. "I'll just go have that shower." And then later on in the day, Callen was going to buy one of those fancy coffee machines, a grinder and a supply of beans. Which was probably what Louise had intended all along. Oh well, at any rate that would take care of tomorrow morning. And anyway, after last night, he couldn't exactly complain.

"Are you always this bossy?" he asked, sticking his head around the door.

"Me – bossy? I'm just persuasive. Very persuasive. You know I'll make it worth your while."

"True." Callen stood underneath the shower, grinning fit to burst and thinking how great life was. Louise was back, Kensi was coming home – now, if only they could sort out this whole me with Hetty's son, then he might actually be in a position to take some of the leave he'd accrued. "Mexico," he announced, walking back into the bedroom a few minutes later, with only a towel slung around his waist.

"Is still in North America, last time I looked." Louise responded. "What about it?"

"How do you fancy going there – on holiday? With me."

"I wouldn't much fancy going there by myself. It would get awfully lonely." She watched as he pulled on his clothes. "Are you serious about that? Us – going on holiday together? To Mexico?" Right now, Mexico sounded like the most perfect place on earth.

"Why not?"

Louise wandered over and let her hand slide down his chest, still smooth from the waxing. "It makes it all sound so serious."

"I am serious." Callen realised he'd never been so serious in his whole life. "I want to be with you, Louise."

"Me too." And she discovered that the coffee could wait just a little while longer.

* * *

><p><em>I felt Sam's wife's feelings have been rather overlooked in the whole Jada storyline in the show. And I'm not a Jada fan at all. Exactly why was Sam attracted to a terrorist's sister in the first place? We never learn enough about her to begin to understand why Sam would be emotionally involved with her. It's as if she was inserted into the storyline to develop some dramatic tension that is just hanging there. It'll be interesting to see if Mrs Hanna ever finds out. I feel she would have to be a strong character for Sam to be attracted to, and that she wouldn't just accept what has happened. It's hard to see how a marriage can survive without honesty.<em>


	41. Chapter 41

_A really nice, long installment to make up for the paucity of chapters this week._

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><p>It emerged that Louise's idea of going out for breakfast actually translated to getting take-out coffee and croissants at a small coffee-shop just around the corner from Deeks' apartment and then taking them around. Callen was fine with that, but he was not quite so prepared to find Sam opening the door in response to his knock.<p>

"You're not Deeks." Callen looked at his partner in considerable surprise. "I am at the right place, aren't I? Or have the two of you done a house swap?"

"No shit. With observational skills like that, you should think about working in some sort of security capacity, G." Sam stood aside and gestured them inside. "Why don't you come in before that coffee gets cold?"

"Did you guys just fancy a sleep-over, or is there something you want to tell us?" Louise suggested and Sam realised that she knew nothing about recent development in his home life. Which was probably fair enough, seeing as she didn't actually know anything about his home-life in the first place. During the long, essentially sleepless hours of the night, Sam had realised that thing were going to have to change, that he could no longer apply the same rigid rules of separation to this home and work lives. Out of the whole team, only he and Hetty had rigidly forced their professional and private selves into two entirely separate compartments, and it hadn't turned out too well for either of them.

"Things aren't going so well at home right now. I guess I've not been around enough – and when I have, I've not exactly been as forthcoming as I should have been."

While Callen felt immense sympathy for his partner, it struck him that this meant Deeks' spare room now had an occupant. And in turn that meant that Louise was going to have to find alternative accommodation. Oh dear. What a pity. Still, they could probably work something out.

"It must be so difficult."

They were through in the living room now, and Sam found that Louise was sitting beside him on the couch, unconsciously taking up the same position as Deeks had done the night before. The difference was that she was looking directly at him and Sam had an awful feeling that she might take hold of his hand. He could deal with most life-or-death situations, he was a cool head and a steady hand in a crisis, but he wasn't entirely sure he could cope with compassionate sympathy without breaking down and disgracing himself, so he would have to play it cool, try not to let his feelings show.

"It's not easy, that's for sure. Sometimes I forget what life I'm meant to be living, or even where I am." Especially when he woke up in the mornings: it took a few moments to adjust.

"I meant for your wife." Louise held his gaze relentlessly. "She must sometimes wonder if she actually knows you at all. You do realise you're making her live a lie too – one she doesn't know anything about? And without her consent." With three sentences she got straight to the heart of the matter, forcing Sam to contemplate his wife's point of view for the first time, to acknowledge the dark side of the moon which had always existed, even if he could not see it.

"You're right." With a growing sense of dread, Sam realised that his whole marriage was built on a series of lies and deliberate omissions, a perilous foundation that grew more complex with each passing day as yet another pretence was added. Talk about building your house on shifting sand. He couldn't have done much worse if he'd found the most volatile part of the San Andreas Fault and set up home right on top of it. While it took two people to make a marriage, it only took one person to break that union irrevocably.

"There's two sides to every story. Have you ever listened to hers? Have you ever asked your wife how she feels about you always going away at a moments' notice?"

"No. I thought we were fine." When he'd bothered to think about it at all. Most of the time Sam had just continued on in the same way he always had. If there was a problem, then she'd tell him about it – wouldn't she?

"What exactly does she think you do?" Louise asked curiously.

"That I'm a security consultant for a federal agency."

"Neat. Almost the truth then. But I'm guessing you hold to the 'less is more' school of thought about the rest of it?"

"It's safer that way." Until your lies found you out, at which point you were in free-fall without a parachute, knowing that the ground was coming up to meet you and that it was going to hurt

Callen could see his partner's growing unease. As surreal situations went, this one was great – his girlfriend virtually interrogating his partner. Sometime soon, he'd have to watch Louise in court, because it looked like she could turn the driest court proceedings into a spectator sport. However, Sam wasn't a hostile witness and it was probably time to change the subject. "So what have you done with Deeks? And Monty?" it was only know that he realised the dog was conspicuous by his absence.

"They went over to the hospital. Both of them." And for some reason Monty had been wearing a bright yellow jacket that proclaimed him to be a service animal. Sam had not been about to ask where Deeks had procured that from, but he suspected it was not entirely above board and had no doubt involved a whole lot of wheedling, as only Deeks knew how. "And if I'm staying here much longer, then the dog goes in the tub. He smells."

"He smells like a dog, Sam," Callen informed him.

Sam couldn't quite work out if Callen thought that was a good thing or a bad thing. "When they came back from the beach this morning Monty did not smell like a dog. He smelt like dead seagull."

"What about Deeks?"

"I didn't actually sniff him, but then he didn't jump into my lap and lick my face. Anyway, I don't think Deeks is into rolling around in decaying avian corpses. At least I hope he isn't."

"I think my little brother is too into Kensi to think about anything much else," Louise said slyly. Then a thought struck her. "She's getting out of hospital today, isn't she?"

"Supposed to be." Sam realised that this meant he would definitely be surplus to requirements. "You think I should leave them in peace? Kensi's going to need some time and space to recover." And there was no way he could go and crash over at Callen's place, because that would be disturbing another love nest. How come the rest of the team were all busy building new relationships and revelling in that heady period when the entire world took on a rosy hue while he had just thrown his marriage on the bonfire of destruction?

"Which is exactly why I'm going to go on over to the hospital when you guys leave for work. I'll pick up Kensi's keys and then go on over to her place and get it ready for her. And I'm guessing Marty will want to stay over there too – just to keep an eye on her." Which meant she'd have to pack a bag for him first. Louise realised she had a busy day ahead of her.

"Knowing Deeks, that's not all he's going to want to do with Kensi." A knowing smirk spread across Callen's face and Louise put on a great show of mock indignation.

"Excuse me? That's my brother you're talking about. And I do not want to talk about his love life, thank you very much. How would you like it if Sam and Marty had sat here last night talking about us?"

"How do you know we didn't?" Sam asked curiously.

"Mainly because I know that Marty would rather go brush his hair before he wanted to speculate about what his big sister may or may not be doing with his boss."

"Temporary boss, if you don't mind." The sooner this whole mess was cleared up and Hetty was reinstated, the better as far as Callen was concerned. "Anyway, Deeks knows Louise would kill him if he did."

"Either that, or I'd make him watch something like _The Incredible Journey_."

While it was tear-jerking in parts, at least that movie had a happy ending, so Louise had no hesitation in using it as a threat. Louise watched as the two men exchanged incredulous looks, wondering what on earth she was talking about. "Don't worry about it: it's just one of these family things. But if you ever really need to get your own back on him, just say _Ring of Bright Water_. That ought to do it. Just don't make him watch the movie, that's all I'm saying." Mainly because she still wept buckets every single time she thought of that poor little otter, so God alone knew what it would do to Marty. Probably make him lie down in a darkened room with Kensi soothing his fevered brow. Which would probably work out just fine for both of them. Despite what Callen might fondly imagine, Louise had no doubt that her little brother was highly sexed and had met his match in Kensi.

"So it's just going to be me staying here?" That suited Sam rather nicely: Deeks had a well-stocked kitchen, a great shower and a really big TV. What more could any man possibly want? Apart from being back home, back with his family, where he belonged. The bed had felt so big last night, so big and so very empty. The loneliness was matched only by the hole in his heart.

"You and Monty." Callen reminded him and then looked at Sam's crestfallen face. "Come on, what's a little dog-sitting in return for free board and lodging in your hour of need?" Because he could guarantee that Deeks was going to be wholly occupied in looking after Kensi and dogs weren't renowned for being able to cross their legs indefinitely.

"And you can give him that bath you were talking about tonight," Louise added brightly.

Well, that was certainly something to look forward to. If today got really bad, then Sam could console himself with the thought that tonight he could come home and wash decomposing bird off a dog. Life held no more. Well, his life didn't right now. His life held precisely nothing, because he'd thrown it all away for a quick fling.

Leaving Louise to make her way over to the hospital in Callen's car, they set off to the Mission. For a few minutes there was an awkward silence between them, neither man quite knowing what to say.

"I really am sorry, Sam." It wasn't nearly enough, but Callen didn't know what else to say. He thought of all the times he'd been over to the Hanna's, all the lies he'd been complicit in and wondered why he'd never said anything before.

"Me too. I've been an idiot."

"If it would help, I could go over to your place and talk to her?" Under the circumstances, that was the least he could do.

"Thanks – but no thanks. Not just now. Maybe later on." Sam gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles shone white. "Right now it's up to me. I'm going to give it everything I've got and show her that there's nobody else in the world for me."

"And Jada?"

"What about her? G – I hardly knew her. What was I doing –going through some sort of stupid mid-life crisis? Thinking I could be involved with Jada and then go back home to my wife like nothing had happened. You should have knocked some sense into me."

"You're bigger than me," Callen pointed out, with perfect sincerity.

"So next time you see me acting stupid, just shoot me."

"Can I have that in writing?" Of course, if that happened, then Sam would definitely be sitting in that side-car he was always going on about and Callen would be in driving the bike. Which actually sounded pretty fine.

* * *

><p>"You do kind of stink," Deeks said and rummaged around in the car for something that might at least neutralise the rather ripe aroma coming from Monty. Coming up blank, in the end he just pulled the air-freshener down and tied it onto the dog's collar, so now he smelt like meadow pine, albeit with a decided undertone of rancid bird. This time, he made sure Monty cocked his leg on a fire hydrant before they went into hospital.<p>

"I see he's got his coat on today," the guard said, eyeing Monty with a fair amount of suspicion. He knew that service animals were chosen for their intelligence, not their looks, but this one didn't look like he was a winner in either department, in fact he didn't even look like a credible contender.

"Yeah – I forgot I had a spare one back home," Deeks said glibly as Monty yawned widely, and then started to pull at the lead. "Just look at him – he can't wait to get to work. I've never seen such a dedicated dog." Glad of the escape before any more awkward questions were asked or the guard asked where the smell was coming from, he let Monty tug him towards Kensi's room. On the way they passed the ficus, which was now starting to look rather yellow and sorry for itself.

"I'm not going to ask." Kensi looked questioningly at Monty's coat and then at Deeks.

"That's probably best. And you might want to stay upwind of him."

"Too late." The stench had already hit her and Kensi felt quite queasy. She gestured towards the window. "Quick. Before I throw up."

"It's not that bad." Nevertheless, he flung it open as wide as it would go and took a deep breath of fresh air. The combination of a small, well-heated room and a pungent dog was rather sick-making, it had to be admitted. "Hey – you're speaking in complete sentences now. That's brilliant."

"I'm still very slow. It's annoying." Having to think about each sound she was going to make was starting to get really frustrating, as was the thickened tenor of her voice. The therapist had suggested that Kensi should try singing along to her favourite songs as another way of increasing her fluency, but she wanted to wait until she got home before trying that, mainly because singing wasn't one of her latent talents and the hospital was full of people who were already sick without her tuneless warblings adding to their distress.

"I think you're amazing. Really." Deeks sat down beside her and took hold of her hand, interlocking their fingers together.

"You're biased." But that was fine by her. Kensi leant her head against his shoulder. "I'm getting out today."

"I know. I was thinking about that all last night."

"Me too." Kensi hesitated. "I was wondering…"

Deeks slung his arm around her, pulling her close and dropped a kiss on top of her head. "If I'd come over and stay?" It made sense that she'd want to go home to her own place.

"How did you know that?"

"Because I was thinking about that all last night. When I wasn't dreaming about you."

That sounded intriguing. "What was I doing?" And what did it mean that he'd been dreaming about her? Did it mean anything at all?

"What weren't you doing, more like. And you were doing it in a pair of gold shorts. Just a pair of gold shorts. And boots."

Kensi thought about this for a moment. "That's quite kinky."

"Probably."

Of course, kinky could be good. Kinky could be very good. "You find the shorts. I'll wear them."

Tonight couldn't come quick enough for Deeks. "That's a deal. I'll find them. I promise." Somewhere, somehow he would definitely find a pair of gold shorts.

"And tell Callen I need to see him." There was the small matter of that message from Macy that Kensi still had to pass on. It was probably the last thing she would ever be able to do for her friend and Kensi was determined to do tell him. Okay, she was going to have to do some thinking to explain how she was in possession of the message in the first place, but she didn't have a whole lot else to do, just sitting around here in the hospital, so she should be able to come up with something plausible.

"That sounds ominous. Should I be worried?"

"Not unless you've got a guilty conscience." Kensi turned to look at him. "Do you?"

"Can I plead the fifth on that?"

Kensi looked at Monty, who was prowling around the room, sniffing at the walls suspiciously. "If you promise me he'll behave. At my place."

"I was kind of thinking that I'd leave him with Sam." Mainly because Monty had a bad habit of wanting to go out to answer a call of nature at the most inconvenient times and Deeks wanted to be sure of being able to devote his entire attentions to Kensi.

"Sam?" Okay, so Sam had become slightly more accepting of the dog, but he couldn't be said to be Monty's biggest fan, not by any stroke of the imagination. Not that poor old Monty had many fans, despite his sweet nature. Then again, the way he stunk right now, Kensi couldn't exactly blame people for giving him as wide a berth as possible.

"Yeah, Sam's kind of crashing at my place. He told his wife about Jada – confessed that he'd been tempted, even if it didn't go any further. And she didn't take it very well. Turns out she didn't even know he worked for NCIS, far less OSP."

"Whoops."

"Exactly. When they first met, he told her he worked in some security capacity, and he never quite got around to telling her the rest."

"And she never suspected?"

"Seems not. Just thought he worked long hours and went abroad a lot. And the longer it went on, the more difficult it got to tell her, I guess."

"Poor Sam." There was a world of sadness in Kensi's voice. She remembered how she'd felt when Jack had walked out – the sense of betrayal, the overwhelming loneliness and despondency, and the certainty that her life was over, that she would never love again because he had been the one man for her. It had taken Kensi years to get over Jack – years that she now realised were wasted, because he had not been worth it. He had not been worth losing a single night's sleep over, because Jack hadn't cared enough about her to want to stay or even to want to try to mend things. The only person Jack cared about ultimately was himself. It was hard to imagine Jack sitting beside her all night in hospital, or asking a nurse to wash her hair, or buying her a crimson satin nightdress.

"I know. He was really cut up last night."

"I'm glad he had you. You're kind of a sweet guy."

Deeks raised his eyebrows so far that they disappeared into his hair. "You might think that – but please, don't ever say that to Sam. I have to work with him, remember? You can tell him I'm really brave and fearless, but just don't tell him I'm sweet."

"Sam loves you and you know that."

"He's got an awfully funny way of showing that love." Sam was a good guy though, one of the best. Deeks just hoped he'd been able to help him last night, by listening, if nothing else. "Guess it just goes to prove we shouldn't have secrets from the people we care about."

"Okay. Well, in that case… there was this time I went undercover. In a topless bar." It was easier to deflect the attention away from the things that still gnawed at her heart, the thing that she could never discuss, not with anyone. One day she would have to tell Deeks about her mother, but today was not the day. Kensi knew she needed to be a whole lot stronger before she could even begin to talk about that. As she had hoped, Deeks picked up the bait immediately.

"I think I need to hear every last detail about that. With photos, please. Or you could act it out for me. That would probably be best. Tonight though. When we're alone, and you're wearing those shorts."

"Just the shorts?" Kensi could feel her breath starting to come in short bursts, and it wasn't just because speech was still a conscious effort.

"Can anyone join in this x-rated conversation?" Louise stood in the doorway, smiling fit to burst. "Or are you just set on corrupting my innocent little brother, you wicked woman?"

"Corrupt him?" Kensi nearly choked at the mere idea. "And since when was he innocent?"

"Junior high?" Deeks suggested. "Mind you, now I come to think about it, maybe not." He looked at his sister and grinned. "Good to have you back, by the way. Finally, I might start getting some sleep at nights, now I know both of you are safe." Reaching up, he pulled Louise into a hug.

Kensi wasn't so sure about that, not if she had anything to do with matters at any rate, but she didn't want to risk Louise's delicate sensibilities all over again, so she just kept that thought to herself. Once she was away from this place, there would be all the time in the world to spend together, all those unguarded moments when nothing seemed too trivial to discuss, all the nuances of one another that they still had to reveal, like two intrepid travellers setting out on a voyage of discovery. A whole world of adventure lay ahead, glimmering bright and irresistible because together they would know no bounds, fuelled by a passion that could set fire to the rain.

* * *

><p>It was mid-morning when Callen dropped by, with a vaguely harassed air about him. "Deeks said you needed to see me?" He was frowning slightly and Kensi felt a wave of disappointment wash over her.<p>

"Is this a bad time?" Macy's message was so important, but if Callen was preoccupied, then maybe she should leave it for another occasion.

"Not really. We're just up to our eyes in a new case. You know how it is." What it was right at the moment was frustrating. Very frustrating indeed, because they were getting nowhere fast. And this afternoon they were bringing in Dave Gillander, the man on whom all hopes of Hetty's re-instatement lay. Not that this was something Kensi needed to know, because she needed to concentrate on getting better, so he prevaricated. "You know how it is: sometimes it's difficult to switch off."

"I know." All those nights when she had gone home alone, and then lain awake most of the night seeing the faces of the people she had shot, reliving the operation over and over again in her head, but this time seeing all the things that might have gone wrong if one subtle difference had been made, seeing them actually taking place. And then last year with Macy, Kensi had been directly forced to acknowledge just how different life might have been if just one small element had changed. That one change could cause such repercussions was incredible. That knowledge had given Kensi the strength and the impetus to finally take the hand Deeks had been holding out, metaphorically speaking, for months. If Callen had any doubts, if he needed one small push to take that leap of faith and allow himself to love again, then the timing had to be perfect. So, if needs be, then it could wait, because the timing had to be right.

Callen's face relaxed. "We miss you, you know that?"

"Are you telling me I'm indispensable?" Maybe this was the right time after all? All Kensi needed now was the right opening.

"More than that – you're irreplaceable. One of a kind."

"What about Macy?"

"Macy? Our Macy?" Wow. That had come out of left-field and no mistake.

"Our Macy," Kensi confirmed.

"What about her?" he asked, caution informing every nuance of his voice. Kensi couldn't know, because nobody had known. Not even Sam.

"She died."

"I know." It wasn't something he was ever going to forget, after all. Macy had died and a part of Callen had died with her.

"And she was your lover." As she said those words, Kensi watched a sea change sweep over Callen's face.

* * *

><p><em>Whew! I'm glad this week is over and I can get back to the really important things in life like writing. I think it's important to have one's priorities in life straight - almost as important as always having a supply of chocolate in the fridge.<br>Thanks to everyone who pointed out my geographical idiocy re Mexico - I've gone back and corrected that. I plead total insanity as my only defence. _

_Ring of Bright Water is a lovely film, as long as you don't watch the last 10 minutes or so. I was emotionally scarred by it at an early age and like Louise have yet to recover. What made matters worse was that I taken to see it in the cinema as a birthday treat and wept copiously all the way home. Possibly the worst birthday ever..._


	42. Chapter 42

_Another long installment, courtesy of both slushy and devious plot bunnies._

* * *

><p>"You don't know that." His face was suddenly completely blank and devoid of any expression or emotion. "You don't know anything about Macy."<p>

"I do. And I know that you made love in the Mission." Kensi spoke very slowly, taking great care to enunciate each word precisely.

"You can't know that." He was keeping a tight rein on his emotions, pulling them down deep inside himself, but an old flame was starting to flicker within, a flame Callen had deliberately kept dormant for all this time, one he had thought was dead was now sparking back into life. Macy. Just the mention of her name and a thousand images flooded into his mind. Macy, who he'd loved so deeply and who had died. A part of Callen had died along with her and until Louise had come along he ahd thought that he would never love again.

"But I do," she said simply and with such complete transparent honesty that Callen had no choice but to believe her. This was Kensi, after all. She had no guile to entrap him with, nor had she any reason to try to trick him or to trap him. This was Kensi and he could trust her. She wouldn't lie to him, and she certainly would not lie to him about something like this.

Kensi reached out and laid her hand on his shoulder. "I know Macy loved you. She told me, Callen. And she told me she never stopped loving you."

"Really?" Callen hated the way his voice almost broke.

For just a second, Kensi could see the faint shadow of the child he had once been, before the cynicism of adult life had set in. In that brief instant she could glimpse the boy who had played in the sunshine on a beach in a far-off land, in the days when he spoke a foreign language and dreamt only of golden days ahead, living in the blissful ignorance of childhood when there was no problem that his mother could not sort out. That existence had been brutally shattered and the child bundled from pillar to post, so that his purity of spirit had been crushed.

"Oh yes. You need to know how much she loved you."

"I loved her too." And he had thought they had tomorrow and the day after that as well, he had truly believed that there would always be time enough to say these things that were understood between them. How wrong he had been. If only it was possible to rewind time, to go back and say all the things that meant so much. But the past was another country and once you left, its borders were closed forever. There was no going back, not ever.

"I know. And I think Macy knew too." Are you listening, Macy? Can you hear him? Can you hear the pain in his voice, see the look of anguish in his eyes? Callen really loved you, Macy.

"I've wanted to talk about her for so long," Callen said and Kensi thought that her heart might very well break at the yearning tone in his voice. "We were like Sam – we kept it all hidden away. All those secrets and lies." They had come back to haunt him once again. All his life, every single aspect of it seemed to be ruled by a complex set of rules that no longer seemed important. Why had he ever thought they were?

"I'm here. You can talk to me and I'll listen." And maybe Macy could finally hear the things you never said to her when she was alive. Perhaps that way she could finally find the peace she had been searching for. Kensi realised that she was being given the opportunity to finally right an old wrong, to be the person that made the difference, who instigate that one small change that had cataclysmic results.

"That would be good." It would release a burden that had been preying on his soul for too long.

"Macy asked me to give you a message. She said I was to tell you to love like you'd never been hurt and to live like it's heaven on earth."

And that did it. Those few words swept away the last barrier he had erected so carefully around his heart and Callen felt all the ancient grief resurge with powerful force, consuming his body. "She said that?"

"And she meant it." Kensi reached out and took hold of his hands. "It's time to let go, Callen. Macy's gone but you've got to start to live again – start to love again."

She saw that his eyes were bright and shining with tears, so many that soon he would no longer be able to contain them and they would start to overflow. She didn't think that Callen would want her to see him in such a vulnerable state, so it seemed easier to pull him towards her and let him rest his head on her shoulder.

"Oh Callen. Let it out. Let it all out."

Her voice no longer seemed oddly husky, Callen realised: it seemed low and reassuring, full of warmth and love. He felt safe enough to permit the tears he could no longer hold back and as they felt the pain seemed to flow out of his body. All the years he had spent learning to control his emotions fled away; all the lonely, miserable years of pretending he didn't hurt as he was shuffled around from one foster home to the next seemed to disappear as surely as the sparkling frost dissolves in sunlight. There was no longer any requirement to maintain all the protective barricades he had so carefully constructed. It seemed that joy and sorrow were complimentary emotions, both equally powerful and both with the ability to empower you, if you were brave enough to accept the challenge. By walling himself off from possibility of emotional turmoil, Callen discovered that he had also isolated himself from the full power of love. But there was no longer anything to be afraid of.

"Macy said that she will always love you. And you're to go forward now, with no regrets."

The time for looking back over his shoulder, for letting the past influence his every action was in the past and finally he could start to walk towards the future that was waiting for him. Callen was weeping openly now, and the room echoed to his harsh sobs, as Kensi held him closely and let one hand stroke his head slowly.

"Let yourself love again, Callen."

It was still early days and the doctors had warned her that her recovery could take some weeks and set-backs could arise at any time: head injuries were tricky things, they said. But Kensi knew that the familiar voice she heard inside her head was no illusion, nor was it the remnants of the blow she'd sustained.

"Thank you, Kensi. We'll have to do this again one day." It sounded as if Macy was smiling.

"Anytime," she whispered, and Kensi knew that she would always miss Macy. One person could make such a huge difference in your life, turning everything inside out and upside down, so that what you once thought you knew as certain fact was revealed to be a fallacy. Without Macy, Kensi would have continued on denying that she had any feelings for Deeks, she would have kept on pushing him away and would have continued going home, night after night, to an empty apartment. She didn't want to end up like Hetty – alone except for her memories. Life meant nothing if you undertook the journey alone when what you were crying out for a fellow-traveller, for the one person who could make the dark days shine a little brighter. And just like Callen, she wanted to bid farewell to the shadows and walk in the sunshine once again.

* * *

><p>It wasn't until he got back to the Mission that Callen realised he had never asked Kensi how she had known about Macy. Presumably the two women had talked about the relationship at some point before Macy's death, although they had never seemed particularly close. But what other possible reason could there be? How else could Kensi have known? Getting that message, almost from beyond the grave, was uncanny. It swept away the few doubts that lingered in his mind about actually committing to something more than a casual affair. This time, he was going to work at it, because this time it was going to be different; he was playing the long game and he was playing to win. Louise had rushed into his life like a hurricane leaving him breathless and unsure about which way was up and which was down, but Callen hadn't had so much fun in years: he felt alive again, rather than just merely existing. That message from Macy had almost been like a blessing, as if she was giving him permission to move on and to live again. God, Macy had been tough. And she'd been tender, surprisingly tender. He'd had some of the best months of his life with her, and now he was looking forward to the future in a way Callen had not permitted himself to do for far too long. It was almost as if Macy had handed him back his life and he knew how mad she would be if he didn't take full advantage of it.<p>

Full of new resolve, Callen stopped by an appliance store and came out carrying not only a coffee machine, but a juicer as well. There was no time like the present after all, and he might as well start off as he meant to continue. The past was just that – in the past and he had not only shut the door, but locked it and thrown away the key. Right now he had the opportunity to make his life whatever he wanted it to be, and Callen realised he wanted it to be full, he wanted to build up a store of golden memories they could reminisce about. More than anything he wanted to experience once again what it felt like to have the security of love and commitment and to know that he was the pole star in someone else's firmament, the fixed point around whom their entire universe revolved. Only it was strange the way Kensi had known about Macy. And that message – the quote from Mark Twain: love like you've never been hurt and live like it's heaven on earth. Someday he would have to ask Kensi about that. But in the meantime, there was the small matter of David Gillander.

* * *

><p>"Call me Dave." He was confident, self-assured and obviously not intimidated by the boat-shed interview room. Of course, he was a Marine, and a good one, judging by his service record. Watching from Ops, Callen found the whole experience slightly surreal, being more accustomed to being in the interview room, to leading the interview, rather than being a passive observer. Idly, he wondered how long it had taken Hetty to adjust to this very different role.<p>

"He's not trying to hide anything," Nell commented, watching his body language. The man seemed entirely at ease.

"So either he's telling the truth, or he's a great actor." Callen looked at him closely, trying to find any resemblance to Hetty, but failing. Other than similar colouring, there was nothing to mark them as mother and son, except perhaps for the way in which they held themselves, and the certainty that characterised their speech.

"Or he believes what he's saying is the truth." Nell found she was growing increasingly cynical the longer she worked for NCIS and the more she saw. It was almost impossible to maintain the wide-eyed naivety she'd come into this job with: little by little it was chipped away as she was exposed to more and more horrors, daily evidence of just how nasty, brutal and short life could be. Brain-washing might not be spoken about much, but everybody knew it happened, whether covertly by subliminal messaging and influencing, or by more overt and intrusive means.

Truth be told and all appearances to the contrary, David Gillander was about as nervous as he'd ever been in his entire life. Doing the right thing, speaking out and telling the truth about Schiff had turned into something altogether different, and he'd not only been propelled into an international incident the authorities were desperately trying to manage behind the scenes, but now it looked as if he'd inadvertently managed to drag Hetty into this whole mess. It was difficult to reach an informed judgement about the two men sitting opposite him – were they loyal to Hetty or were they part of what seemed like a conspiracy against her, one that he was being used as an unwitting fuse to ignite and send her life exploding into nothingness? He'd have to play this one very carefully indeed. Right now, Gillander had no idea where his birth mother was, she seemed to have dropped right off the face of the planet, and the fact that he'd been called into the agency for questioning was clearly not good.

"Tell us about Schiff," the younger one invited. He was blond and blue-eyed, looked like your typical Californian surfer dude, which probably meant that he was most at home crawling through jungle undergrowth with a knife clenched between his teeth, if the rumours about OSP were true. It was said that they recruited covertly, taking people from all branches of the services, people who could be counted to get the job done and not to ask too many questions whilst doing so. So Gillander wasn't about to be fooled by this man with the laid-back persona, who looked like he used to be a choir boy and an Eagle Scout before he discovered girls, dope and guns – but not necessarily in that order.

The other man was a large, brooding presence and that disturbed Gillander. He'd never trusted the strong, silent type, mainly because in his experience they generally turned out to either be homicidal maniacs or psychopaths. Then again, maybe that just said something about the Marine Corps' recruiting policy. They weren't exactly looking for people who specialised in needlepoint after all. Anyway, this guy looked like he'd fit right in to any Special Ops team. He was a big, bald man who looked like he could hold his own in a fight – even if that fight was ten against one. Heck, even his muscles had muscles. So, they'd teamed the friendly unassuming one with the Incredible Hulk. It wasn't exactly subtle, but he could work with that.

"What do you want to know?" Dave invited.

Deeks felt like sighing in frustration. God, he hated it when they answered with a question. If you weren't careful, things started going around in circles and Sam was clearly in no mood for that sort of verbal game today.

"Shiff was found hanging – and yet you went on record saying that he was murdered. That's a serious charge."

"Not as serious as a charge of murder. Which it was. Not suicide." He spoke in short, decisive sentences, maintaining eye contact.

"So why do you think he was killed?"

"Because I knew Schiff. He was a small-town boy – his daddy was pastor of the Baptist Church and Schiff was seriously thinking about taking up the Ministry himself. He went to services all the time, he read his Bible and he prayed every day." Gillander leaned forward, placing both hands on the table. "A good God-fearing boy killing himself like that? I don't think so. Plus, he was going to propose to his girl back home."

"So maybe he was overcome with guilt about what he'd done," Sam suggested.

"Guilt? About showing these four idiots up for what they were?" Gillander shook his head. "Schiff was absolutely convinced he'd done the right thing. Why should he feel guilty?"

"The right thing?" Sam's voice got louder. "If he didn't feel guilty, then he should have. He deliberated damaged US foreign relations at a crucial time. And that's just for starters. His actions put all our troops who are still out there serving their country at an increased level of danger, over and above all the other dangers they're facing. And he brought what should have been an internal matter out into public and risked damaging the Corps forever. How about that? Your buddy Schiff realised what he'd done and knew that his career was over."

The gloves were off now and Sam had lost what little patience he still had. Standing up, he loomed over the table, coming face to face with Gillander, so close that their noses were almost touching. "Your buddy could have done the right thing – informed his commanding officer, taken things through official channels. That's what he should have done, instead of dragging the name of the Marine Corps through the dirt."

"My buddy?" If it hadn't been such a laughable suggestion, Gillander would have laughed out loud. "Schiff was a sanctimonious little prick. I couldn't stand the guy. But that doesn't mean I shouldn't stand up and tell the truth. I was raised better than that."

"That bears out the medical evidence." Deeks slapped a copy of the autopsy report down. "Looks like Schiff was strangled manually, and then strung up after he was dead. The ligature marks don't correspond to the other marks on his neck, and there's not enough haemorrhaging from them. Plus, there was no note. Most people who hang themselves leave a note."

"So who hated Schiff enough to kill him?"

Gillander sighed. "Start with his platoon and then keep going. Even the padre didn't like him much. Mainly because Schiff would send him detailed critques of his sermons. Look, don't get me wrong, I'm not condoning what those guys did back there. And I didn't like Schiff. But that's no reason to let someone get away with murder."

"I'm glad to hear it. You ever consider they dragged the Marine Corps down too?"

"Every minute of every day." Gillander's eyes were dark with anger. "What they did was disgraceful and I'm not going to defend it. But you've got to understand what it's like out there…" Everything was different out there. Men came back like drained husks, with a disconcerting stare in their eyes. It was like living on another planet sometimes. You came home on leave, but you knew you would have to go back and live through that hell all over again.

"I understand," Sam informed him. "Believe me, I understand."

There was something about the way that he said that, something about the look in his eyes and GIllander knew he had served in action. You could always tell. He sat back as Sam continued to talk, speaking with genuine passion and commitment.

"But there are rules of engagement and they are there for a purpose. We were out there for a reason – and then they fucked it all up for some stupid joke, degrading dead men, who died for what they believed in. That is not what the US is about and they are not what the Corps is about. And then Schiff went and made it one whole lot worse."

The whole affair was a disaster, from start to finish. The dead men were defiled, the four Marines would be dishonourably discharged at best, Schiff was dead and international relations were poised on a knife edge. And just to make matters really peachy, someone was trying to drag Hetty into the whole sorry mess.

"Granted. Schiff was a fool – but that doesn't condone what happened to him. If we let this one drop, then we're just as guilty as those four Marines. We might as well just piss on the Constitution and be done with it." Gillander was amazed to see both men relax visibly when he said that.

"So you've no idea who might have done this to Schiff? Deeks asked, just to make things absolutely clear for the tape. He knew Callen was observing back in Ops, but there was no telling which authority figures might also be patched in.

"Could have been another Marine, could have been anyone who managed to work out who uploaded it to that site." Dave Gillander sighed. "I'm not totally stupid. It could even have been sanctioned – officially or unofficially. But I don't know. And that's the truth."

"I believe you." Sam nodded his confirmation as Deeks continued. "But this has caused some ripples. And more people are getting caught up in this affair." It wasn't safe to say anymore, so he just had to hope that Gillander would take the hint.

Sam took up the cudgels. "You'll probably want to be getting back to your family. They'll be worried about you."

You didn't rise to the rank of Staff Sergeant in the US Marine Corps by being stupid. The only visible sign on the man's face was a slight widening of his eyes, nothing more. "So I can go? What if I find out anything else and need to get in touch?"

The man was good, Deeks had to give him that. But then he wouldn't expect anything less from Hetty's son. He handed across a card, with his own cell number scrawled on the back, thanked him for his assistance and then watched as another agent ushered him out of one exit, while he and Sam left by another. By mutual, if unspoken consent they waited until they were clear of the building, walking among the crowds before either man spoke again. If this was all coming down to dirty tricks, then you couldn't be too careful.

"You think that was enough to clear Hetty?" It was something, and yet it was nothing.

Sam felt an utter weariness seep into his body. "There's something more to this. Like someone, somewhere has just been waiting for a chance to pin Hetty down and make her squirm."

"Really? Someone hates Hetty that much?"

"Or feels threatened by her."

"Maybe she knows too much?" Deeks mused.

"Undoubtedly. Hetty's been in this game a long time." And over the years she had worked with hundreds, if not thousands of agents, on both sides of the board. There was no telling who might wish to see her career brought to a sudden and ignominious end.

"So this one's personal?"

"Looks like it."

"That's awkward. Not knowing who we can trust. Or maybe we should just go along with the X-Files adage and trust no-one?"

"Probably best. No-one outside the team, anyway."

"What about Nell and Eric?"

"Eric was a hacker: there's a possibility they could be holding charges over his head and using that as leverage. And Nell? You've seen how she and Vance act together." It was just a little too close for comfort, like there was a previous relationship there. God, he hoped they hadn't slept together.

"Kind of hinky?" Deeks suggested.

"Yeah. Kind of hinky." Normally Sam would have pulled Deeks up for that, but the man was right, 'hinky' was the correct word. There was definitely something more than met the eye going on there and that made him uneasy.

"So we trust our team: and no-one else." This was sounding a whole lot like Romania all over again, Deeks realised, with a sense of foreboding.

"That works for me." And Hetty, of course, but that went without saying. Everyone else was now officially a suspect. With a shudder, Sam realised that this had now turned into a covert operation, spying from within, trying to uncover the traitor in their midst. It felt like he'd slipped into some movie about the Cold War, with double agents, zither music and rainy scenes filmed in black and white, only this was California and the sun was shining, the tourists were snapping photographs and everything seemed so normal and unthreatening. But then it always did when the real enemy was within, that was the problem and why the threat was so invidious: because you never realised how deadly it was until it was too late.


	43. Chapter 43

"It all seems conclusive enough to me," Callen said emphatically. "Hetty was never involved in any leak of information or in making any false allegations. I'll report back to Vance. Director Vance," he corrected himself quickly, mindful of the fact he was still nominally in charge and therefore owed at least a modicum of respect to the man.

"Think he'll believe you?" Deeks asked sceptically. "After all, he suspected Hetty of some sort of collusion in the first place." He was still having trouble processing that piece of information. Even when the autopsy evidence had shown that Schiff had not died by his own hand, Vance had insisted that they bring Gillander in for interrogation.

"Vance has his own agenda," Sam said flatly. "Just look at what he's done over the past few months: brought in Hunter, brought it Granger, suspended Hetty…"

"In his defence, he did let Deeks join NCIS." Nell was astounded to see the looks that greeted her statement. "I was only saying." Hadn't they ever heard of the phrase 'devil's advocate'? It seemed not, judging by the way Sam was looking at her, as if she'd just uttered something treasonable

"Vance had no say in the matter, Nell. Hetty had signed and dated those papers months before. It was a _fait accompli_." And since then, Deeks had been pretty sure the fates had been conspiring to cause chaos.

Nell shook her head. "He still could have vetoed your appointment."

"Are you trying to tell me something, Nell?" Deeks looked at her sorrowfully and tried to ignore the look on Sam's face: the one that said 'I told you so.' Okay, next time someone handed him the job of a lifetime he'd sign the papers so fast his hand would be a blur.

"No. I was just saying. Director Vance is a powerful man." He was the Director of NCIS, and in Nell's book that meant something. She was able to divorce her personal feeling about the man from the position – a position that demanded her respect.

"At the moment." Callen wondered why Nell felt the need to defend the Director. "But Hetty has a lot of friends and admirers." She was probably on first name terms not only with the Directors of security services around the world, but with the most of the UN security council as well. And that was before you considered who was on her speed-dial. Or rather – who wasn't.

"Not to mention the loyalty of her team." Sam looked carefully at Nell. "And she knows who she can trust." Trust: that was what it all boiled down to. You had to have trust in your team to be able to operate and you had to trust those put in authority over you. More than that, you had to trust those close to you with your heart, to take that leap of faith into the unknown and know that they would be there without question, at no matter what personal risk.

Nell shot him a hurt look, gathered her files together and left Ops with great dignity, as Callen watched in horror.

"You want to tell me what's going on here?" Was it his imagination or had Sam just called Nell out – all but accusing her of being some sort of mole, hell-bent on destroying Hetty?

"Sometimes you can't trust everyone, G."

"Hetty trusted Nell," Callen reminded him. "When she was on sick leave, remember?" Nell had been Hetty's right hand, trusted to do her job with discretion

"I remember. And I also remember how Nell and Vance were at that time. Almost like they were old friends. And do you know for certain that Hetty still trusts her?"

Eric had been trying to ignore the conversation, but things had now reached a point where he had to speak up. "This is Nell," he reminded them. "Nell – who's even gone undercover for this team. How can you even think that about her?" It wasn't easy, standing up to Sam, but he owed it to Nell.

"Because something's hinky," Deeks said. "And we're all on edge here."

"And you think that Nell would do something like that?" He looked at them incredulously. "Nell?"

Sam returned his gaze. "Like the man said, something's hinky."

That was when Callen knew how serious this was: when Sam used a Deeks-ism. He would normally rather pull his own teeth out with pliers than stoop to such depths.

"You guys don't trust me either, do you?" Eric was beginning to feel as if he had slipped into some alternate universe, where everything he though he knew was proved to be the reverse. Or something. He just wasn't thinking too straight right now.

"We don't know what to think," Sam said. "Not about anyone."

"Eric's never done anything to make us think we can't trust him. Never." Deeks knew that it would have been only too easy for Eric to be just a few seconds slower in relaying vital information that could mean the difference between life and death.

"But I'm not one of the charmed inner circle, am I Sam? Listen, I know you're screwed up about your wife and all, but stop trying to make his personal." His fists were balled up and Eric had a feeling that his face was flushed with anger, but right now he didn't care.

"Don't bring my wife into this."

"Why not? You as good as accused Nell of working for Vance and against the team." Eric shook his head in astonishment. "Stop being such a hypocrite."

"Wait." Callen grabbed hold of Eric as he stalked past. "Wait a minute. Maybe this is what it's all about." You could almost see his mind frantically trying to process the information and make some sense of everything.

Deeks looked at him blankly. "Maybe if you define 'it' that might let us in on the secret?"

"Divide from within. Divide and conquer. Can't you see?" He felt like slapping himself on the head, it was so simple, so fiendishly simple and that was the beauty of it. "Look at the facts: Hetty resigns – and we follow. Even you, Deeks."

"What do you mean 'even me'?" he asked indignantly.

Sam managed to restrain the impulse to slap him, but it was a close-run thing. "As in you weren't actually able to resign, but you still came anyway. And you would have resigned if you could have."

"True enough."

"So shut up and let G continue."

"Hetty resigns, Hunter is brought in – and we give her hell. We make her life just as difficult as we can. And then Hetty comes back and everything in the garden is just rosy. And then next thing we know, along comes Granger. And what happens? We get all defensive again, siding with Hetty."

"I just plain didn't like him," Eric confessed, his earlier anger dissipating as he realised what Callen was saying.

"That's because he insulted your jammies." Which was pretty much the reason didn't possess any pyjamas, far less ones with an animal print on them, Deeks thought. He still had a soft spot for Hunter –after all, she'd given him a parking spot.

"You look at the facts, put like that, and any decent boss is going to assess OSP as containing a significant risk. It looks like we're less about NCIS and more like Hetty's personal corps. And that's got to be a worry. You can see them thinking – what if Hetty goes rogue? And what if we all just follow her?"

They all thought back to Prague and Romania, and the carnage they'd left in their wake. They had the skills, the tactical knowledge and they could be completely ruthless when the odds were high enough. No wonder Vance was just about peeing himself with worry.

"It was all about Hetty?" Deeks sounded surprised, but when he thought about it, everything suddenly made sense. Hetty Lang was one of those unique individuals who inspired loyalty and respect. In an age where blandness and conformity held sway, Hetty was the exception to the rule. She had genuine charisma and, more than that, her team knew that she would back them up 100%, straight down the line. They owed her the same, and they had gone out to Europe without a second thought – simply because it was Hetty. He could see why Vance felt to threatened, because he would never be able to engender those sorts of feelings in anybody, far less those place underneath him. Vance might have been a politician, but he was not a leader and he never would be.

"It was a test?" Sam said blankly. "A set-up?"

"Not exactly," a familiar voice said crisply. "Director Vance rightly judged that there was a chance that I might have been involved in the leak of that tape onto the internet. Therefore, he had no choice but to content himself that I was blameless." However much she might have resented the interference in her private life, Hetty had to admit that in the circumstances, Leon Vance had made the right call. It was the way in which he had gone about it that she objected to – and she would continue to resent that until her dying day. As far as she was concerned, the end most certainly did not justify the means.

Callen took up the story. "And he had to see how far our loyalty would go, to establish that we weren't compromised."

"Only we knew we weren't – so we started looking around and about us." Sam flung Eric an apologetic look. "I apologise. Unreservedly. I wasn't thinking straight."

"Vance thought that our loyalty to Hetty would supercede everything else? So what we were actually doing was proving ourselves to him?" Deeks always known Vance was sneaky, but this was taking things to a whole new level. A much lower level than he'd thought even Vance was capable of. And to deliberately take advantage to the Iranian incident, that was sheer genius – the genius that only a truly warped mind could conceive of. "I guess it would be too much to hope that this might count as our yearly performance appraisal?" Well, it was worth a shot.

"Far too much, Mr Deeks." Hetty's face relaxed. "I'm proud to say that you all conducted yourselves with the utmost professionalism and integrity through this whole sorry matter. Director Vance will be most relieved to know that there is no enemy within OSP."

"You're back – officially?" Callen found he had every one of his fingers crossed.

"I was never really away. Ms Jones kept me fully appraised of everything that has been going on. And I mean everything. She has a remarkable ability to see the bigger picture, even when the focus is somewhat distorted." It was as near to reprimand as Hetty felt capable of right now.

"I should have known." Deeks still hadn't forgotten the way Hetty had suddenly materialised via webcam when she was supposedly recuperating back at home. He still had a recurrent nightmare of that, one which jolted him awake every time, awake and in a cold sweat. Was there anything that woman didn't see? In 2012 it appeared that Big Brother had been replaced by Little Sister.

"And I should have known better than to judge Nell like that." The degree of duplicity and deviousness Vance had employed sat uneasily with Sam. One day, that man would find his own motives called into question and Sam just hoped he would be around to watch Vane have a taste of his own medicine. "I'll go and apologise."

"Good luck with that," Eric called out to his retreating back. Nell might be half Sam's size, but she was tenacious and plucky. He had an irresistible image of Nell as a Yorkshire terrier, growling and snapping at Sam, as represented by a large Rottweiler, with an equally large muzzle holding his jaws shut.

"So, gentlemen: here we are again. Isn't this fun?" Hetty rubbed her hands together in glee.

"I can barely restrain myself."

"You sound a little jaded, Mr Deeks. Not quite your normal bouncy self."

"He's like the bunny without the Energiser batteries."

"A rather neat analogy, Mr Beale. Well, as this investigation is now closed, and in view of the extra hours you both put in over the festive period, I'm going to order you all to take the rest of the day off. Do spend your time wisely."

Deeks knew exactly how what he was going to do with this unexpected gift: he was going to buy a pair of gold shorts (size 2) and then he was going straight over to the hospital to pick up Kensi. After that, he planned to be fully occupied for the rest of the day and all of the night. And that was just for starters.

* * *

><p>"You know how I said I'd stay over?" They were walking slowly up the path to Kensi's door, and she was finding she was having to lean on Deeks rather more heavily than expected. It was funny how a couple of days in hospital really took it out of you, because she felt as weak as a kitten. Of course, having a major head injury that had left her with a speech impairment might have something to do with it as well.<p>

"There's a problem?" Kensi hoped that she managed to keep the disappointment out of her voice, but it was hard to tell. She was beginning to loathe the hesitancy in her speech, and the fact that she seemed to be mumbling all the time. And she felt so tired, as if she could just lay down and go to sleep for a hundred years. She realised that she'd been counting on Deeks to be around, and felt strangely let-down.

"Yeah. Kind of a big one." He unlocked the door and let her go in first. "See, the last time I looked, you only had one bed." Deeks tried hard, but he couldn't keep the teasing tone at bay.

"You've been looking round my house?"

"It didn't take long. There's not a whole lot to look around. Anyway, like I said, we've got ourselves a problem with the sleeping arrangements." He was grinning from ear to ear now, likea cat who had found himself alone in a creamery.

"I don't see why."

"No?" Oh, that cocky grin – like he thought he knew everything. Like he thought she was going to be such a push-over. Just because he had eyes as blue as the sea on a summer morning and a body that turned her thighs to jelly every time Kensi thought about it. God, he knew her far too well. All Deeks had to do was to beckon with his little finger and she'd come running. Eventually.

"No problem at all. You can sleep on the couch."

"Funny lady." Deeks kicked the door shut behind him. "Funny, funny lady."

The room was dim and it was easy to turn around into his embrace, so that Deeks was muttering those words with his lips just millimetres away from her neck, his breath whispering across her skin and setting her nerves dancing with anticipation as he kissed her in that place behind her ear that sent a lightning bolt straight down into her belly.

"You're not laughing." Kensi let her fingers tangle in the curls that clustered at the nape of his neck, drawing Deeks' head down to the hollow of her throat in a motion that left a trail of kisses singing on her skin.

"No, I'm not. That's because I'm too busy loving you." Deeks reached down and swung Kensi up into his arms. "And I plan to keep doing that for a long time." He bent his head down and kissed her, so that a thousand sparks seemed to fly up into the air.

"Oh good." Kensi wrapped her arms around his neck and beamed radiantly at him. "Let me know when you're going to start, will you?"

For that, he should have smacked her butt and then dropped her down onto the bed from a great height, but the memory of the assault was still fresh in Deeks' mind, and besides which, there was a faint air of fragility about Kensi that aroused all his protective instincts. He'd come so close to losing her back there, so terribly close. And now he didn't want to ever let her go again. "Going to take your breath away, baby girl."

Kissing her was like walking through a summer meadow, with all his senses being bombarded by her softness, the silken feel of her hair and the satin of her skin; the faint, evocative scent that he would have known anywhere; the way she moaned when he parted her lips and let his tongue dart molten fire; and the way she tasted, like honey and wild cherries and salt-water taffy. She did things to him that no other woman could and she made Deeks feel like he could run right up to the edge of eternity, just as long as she was by his side.

Kensi reacted to his touch with a ferocity that surprised them both, soaring up to meet his kiss, digging her nails into his shoulders and literally clinging on to him after their lips finally parted. The intensity of the emotions surged up, and then ebbed slightly, leaving her trembling. "Don't let me go. Just don't let me go."

"I'm here, Kensi. I'm right here. And I'm not going anywhere." Deeks eased her onto the bed with the utmost care and tenderness, so that they were lying together and wrapped his body around hers. "I'll always be here for you. I promise."

She was crying now, just one or two tears tricking down her face and he bent his head to kiss them away. Far in the deep recesses of her mind, Kensi could remember her mother doing the same thing and it was oddly comforting. But her mother had left…

"Promise me? Promise me you'll never go away?" She'd never needed anyone quite so much in her life.

"I promise." Where else would he want to be? Deeks wrapped his arms around Kensi, cocooning her in safety and love and watched as she drifted off to sleep. There was no rush, because this was only the beginning. And he planned to love her in a thousand different ways, until the end of time.

* * *

><p>"Can we talk?" He had at about an hour before school finished and his daughter came home, and Sam reckoned he could at least make a start at mending some of the damage he'd wrought. So here he was, standing on the doorstep and begging his wife to let him try to save their marriage.<p>

"That would be good." This felt so awkward, like they were two strangers from different countries, who had once known each other but now spoke entirely different languages.

"I was a fool. And I know I've hurt you. But I never stopped loving you." If he had, then this wouldn't hurt so much. It felt as if someone was ripping him apart, from the inside out. "And I'm so sorry."

"I know that. But I don't know if it's enough," she said sadly.

"Do you still love me?" Because if she didn't, then Sam didn't know what he would do.

"I still love you. I just don't like you very much."

"You've got no reason to trust me, I know that. But – maybe we could try again? Go out on a date or something. Maybe if we start right back at the beginning again – but this time I won't lie to you and I won't hide anything." He'd thought about this long and hard before realising that if life didn't give you a second chance, then it was up to you to start afresh, and this was the only way he could think of. Right now, Sam was gambling everything he had on this one shot. And he knew that his voice was breaking, his hands were shaking and the tears were standing out in his eyes, but he didn't care.


	44. Chapter 44

"Okay." As Sam watched, a smile started to creep slowly across her face so that once more there was his wife standing in the doorway rather than a stern, wounded woman who was a virtual stranger, and made so by his action. "We could do that. Go out on a date, I mean. A proper date. You make the arrangements and call me."

Seeing Sam like this – almost pleading with her for a second chance to make things right was almost enough to make her give in right there and then, because God help her, she adored the man. There was almost nothing she wouldn't do for him, but he had to want to make this marriage work and, more than that, he had to do his fair share of making it work. It had to be a two-way process if they had any chance of a meaningful relationship. So now it was up to Sam to show her how much he really cared. And if that meant going out for dinner and maybe dancing, or taking a drive down the coast to watch the sun set, then that was what they were going to do. It would be interesting to see what he came up with. Just as long as he didn't take her bowling.

"I will. I'll call you." And until then, he'd be thinking about how she was the best thing in his life and how he didn't deserve her. As he drove back over to Deeks' place, Sam was thinking frantically about what to do next. This date had to be perfect, because so much depended on it. Heck, he was going to have to ask for advice. Between Kensi, Louise and Nell, at least one of them must be able to come up with something. Of course, tonight was already spoken for, because he had the unparalleled joy of giving a dog a bath. Then again, maybe they could just go down to the beach and he could throw a stick into the ocean and let nature wash away the worst of the seagull?

Later that evening, Sam found that there were worse things to do that to be walking along a beach in your bare feet, with a dog gambolling in the surf, returning to his side every now and then, as if to make sure he was alright. "You and me, Monty," he called out, and the dog cocked his head to one side. "It's just you and me. Guess we've got to make the best of it."

* * *

><p>Monty trotted up, tail wagging hopefully. He didn't ask for much in life, Sam realised and reached down to pet him on the head. "How about we go by the market and buy you some steak, eh?" Deeks would probably accuse him of spoiling Monty, but only if he found out. What Deeks didn't know wouldn't hurt him. And anyway, they were just two guys together and they should stick together – even if one of them was canine and rather lacking in the reproductive area. Sam was pretty sure Monty was looking mournful, although it was hard to tell, given that Monty looked depressed most of the time. Then again, if someone had cut his balls off, Sam wouldn't exactly be a little ray of sunshine either.<p>

"You miss your Dad, don't you?" he asked and the dog gave a single bark. "Yeah, join the club. I miss my family too." There were other families on the beach tonight – parents and children - and Sam realised that this was something he'd never done with his wife and daughter – had never done something so simple as making the time to spend together as a family, just walking along the beach together. Life didn't have to be full of visits to theme parks, or meals at expensive restaurants – sometimes the very best things were also the simplest. And sometimes it took being all alone, except for a dog, to make you realise that. Still, things could be worse, Sam thought – he could be totally alone. At least he still had Monty. Even if he was only a dog, and Deeks' dog at that. So maybe, if he ever got things sorted out at home, they could get a dog of their own? He thought his daughter would probably love that. Of course, she'd probably want a pony after that…

Normally, when Hetty finally got home and closed the door behind her, the very first thing she did was to pick up a remote and cue music to fill the empty spaces of whichever house she happened to be staying in. Tonight was no different, and the familiar sounds of Rachmaninoff began to soar through the rooms, lifting her weary spirit up. Later, once she had sufficiently decompressed, it would give way to Lady Gaga and Hetty would dance joyously, releasing all the tension she had stored up in her body, but right now she was too tired and her heart was still heavy, so only classical music could fill the void within her.

"Hetty?" A familiar figure stepped out of the living room. She knew every inch of his face, for it was like seeing his father all over again.

"David. My dear David." All the tiredness seemed to dissolve and she held out her arms. "How lovely to see you."

"Am I forgiven?" he asked, bending down to accept her embrace and then kissing her on the cheek. Even the way his hair brushed against her cheek reminded Hetty of his father and once more her heart began to sing.

"Forgiven? For standing up and telling the truth? There is nothing to forgive." Hetty took hold of his hands and smiled up at him. Everything she had endured was worthwhile, if only for this moment.

"But it caused more trouble – and it nearly cost you your job." The guilt had been consuming Dave.

"Sometimes the truth can be both a terrible thing and a terrifying thing. It can be much easier to say nothing. But the truth will always come out, whether in this lifetime or in another." It sounded so simple when she put it like that. "You made me so very proud of you – your courage, your determination. You are so very like your father." And that meant he would never be dead as long as his son was alive. That thought gave her the most immense comfort.

Dave smiled back at her. How typically modest of Hetty to ascribe these positive qualities to his father. "Maybe there was a little bit of you in there too?"

"Perhaps. And, of course, your parents – your real parents, I mean – brought you up to become the man you are today." She could never give enough thanks for the wonderful job the Gillanders had done raising their son. For David was the product of his upbringing. She had merely given birth to him, but they had raised him, had nourished his soul and nurtured him. While she might have provided the raw materials, it was their love and devotion that had made the man – this honourable man.

"I'm a lucky man." He had never doubted that, but at this moment, Dave had never felt more certain of that either. "And your team are lucky to have you."

"I'm blessed with them. Just as I am blessed with you."

At the end of the day, Hetty had so many blessings, so many things to be thankful for. She had love and loyalty and a job that was endlessly fascinating, even if it was sometimes just a little frustrating. And she had a son who she had given up, but who had returned to her repaying the gift she had given him a thousandfold. Life was very, very good. There were few things she would change, other than to wish that David's father was still here, so that he could see the man his son had become. Hetty knew exactly what he would have said, for his voice came down clearly to her across all the long and lovely years, saying proudly _"__On jest orłem"._ And he was right, because their son was an eagle who flew alone, high above the sheep that flocked together, safe in their mediocrity. America was lucky to have men like David serving her, a man who proud to echo the words his father had lived by: "_tobie ojczyzno_".

* * *

><p>When Kensi finally awoke, it was late afternoon and the sun was starting to fall low in the sky. "You should have woken me," she said accusingly to Deeks, who was lying next to her, propped up on a pile of pillows and seemingly engrossed in a copy of Glamour magazine.<p>

"You look cute when you're sleeping." All her defences were down then, and Kensi revealed a different, much softer and more vulnerable side to herself, like she was a little girl again.

"I snored, didn't I?" Surreptitiously, she raised one hand to her mouth, convinced she'd drooled into the bargain.

"Nope. You whimpered a couple of times though. Like a puppy, or something." And when she had made those poignant little noises, Deeks had taken her in his arms, holding her close, stroking her hair and whispering that he was here, that everything was alright and that she was safe. It seemed to work, and Kensi had lain quietly, with her head upon his chest, as if the steady beat of his heart was soothing her back into slumber. And with that, Deeks had felt a deep feeling of contentment.

"Like I said, you're cute when you're asleep." Deeks leant over and dropped a kiss on top of her head.

"I'm just cute, period." Kensi pushed herself up onto her elbows and kissed him back.

"Can't argue with that."

"You'd better not."

Deeks grinned at her, that slow, lazy grin that turned her insides to butter. "What would you do if I did?"

"This." Her speech might be slow and hesitant, but Kensi's reactions were as fast as ever. In an instant she had rolled over so that she was sitting on Deeks' stomach, pinning his arms above his head. It had to be said that he didn't put up much resistance. "Told you."

"I give in." His body relaxed bonelessly against the pillows in an attitude of utter subjection. "Take me: I'm yours."

"Oh good." Unfolding her legs, Kensi lay down on top of him, stretching herself along his body, so that they were matched, length for length. "I was hoping you'd say that."

Their eyes were just inches apart, so that Deeks could look right into her gaze, that unique gaze with one candid hazel eye and one that was both darker and softer, with a blueish tint in the outer corner.

"Oh God, I've missed this. I've missed being with you." It was almost a groan.

"Me too." Kensi reached down and kissed him: kissed him like she was never going to stop, because he was just so good to kiss and to be kissed by.

The next moment Deeks' hands were reaching around her, slipping up underneath her shirt and caressing the soft skin of her back and then in the next instant they were undressing one another, tugging clothes off and discarding them anywhere, concentrating on the nearness, the long, aching time spent apart. The feel of skin gliding across skin; of a thousand kisses that grew deeper and longer and more passionate with each passing second; the way a tongue could dart molten fire and set a shiver coursing throughout your body: all these sensations and more consumed them. They were moving in unison now, united together and generating a heat and passion. Kensi could hear herself moaning, urging him on and it seemed that her voice sounded almost normal, but that wasn't important. Nothing was important except this single moment of time when everything else ceased to matter or even to exist as she started to climb up towards a peak. Deeks was moving faster now, his chest was slick with a fine sheen of sweat and his eyes were taking on that far-away look Kensi had learned to recognise. Cresting, she pulled him up with her, pulled him tightly within her and held onto him as if she would never let him go. He yelled, a triumphant, jubilant yell and she echoed the cry, even as he collapsed down again with a shudder.

"Told you I missed you." Deeks gently brushed the hair back from her face. "So don't ever do that to me again, okay?"

"Okay." Kensi sprawled on top of him, revelling in the comfort of his embrace and feeling that life was as close to perfect as made no difference at all.

* * *

><p>"You can't eat Jello for breakfast." Deeks was beginning to think she'd become addicted to the stuff while in hospital. Was there a ten-step programme for Jello addicts? And why had his sister seen fit to buy quite so many tubs of the stuff?<p>

"Oh yes I can." Kensi took another spoonful and sighed in mock rapture. "It's fruit – which means it's good for me."

"No – this is fruit." Deeks picked up an orange and held it out. "This is fruit and that is pudding." He picked up another couple of oranges and started to juggle.

"And that is showing off."

"You're just jealous." He tossed each piece of fruit into the air one last time and then caught each one neatly as they fell back down.

"I bet you make balloon animals too. We could hire you out for children's parties. Uncle Marty."

Deeks just looked at her – and then thought how good she looked, in lycra leggings and a sweat top, her hair pulled back into a simple ponytail. "You ready for that run?"

Finishing the final spoonful of Jello, Kensi nodded. A gentle run was just what she needed to blow the cobwebs away and start on the road to recovery. Sunshine and fresh air sounded wonderful after being inside for far too long, breathing the warm, recycled air of a hospital.

"We're going to take this slow and gentle," he warned, locking the door behind them.

"That's what you said last night. Or was it this morning?" She'd lost count of the number of times they'd made love, but it had to be at least three. Or maybe it was four? They started to jog at a moderate pace.

"Can I help it if you're irresistible and you make me lose control?" Deeks turned around so that he was jogging backwards.

"Show-off." Kensi discovered that she was finding this harder than it should be and that her legs felt like jelly after only a couple of hundred yards. It had definitely been four times they'd made love, she thought, each time wilder than the last. No wonder she felt shagged out.

"Sultry temptress. Leading me astray."

"Yeah, right. Like you need any help." Actually, right now Kensi felt that she was the one who might need some help, because she was feeling shattered. She was just about to suggest they turned around and then walked back home slowly when Deeks' face changed as he saw something behind her, something that drew his brows together.

"Stop that. Right now." He barked out the commands, then burst into a sprint and started tearing back along the sidewalk to where a teenage boy was kicking a cowering dog in the ribs. The animal was yelping in pain and trying to get away from him, but as he had a tight hold on the lead, all it succeeded in doing was pulling its tormentor into the middle of the street.

Turning around, Kensi began to retrace her steps, trying to bring her breathing back under control and to convince herself that her knees would hold her up when she heard the familiar sound of Mr Humphries' ancient car behind her and automatically waved at her neighbour, who returned the gesture with his customary courtesy. She would swear that if he had been wearing a hat, he would have doffed it. The next moment, Kensi found the smile on her face freezing as the car jerked forward and started to gather speed, seemingly out of control. In a split second, she realised that she'd distracted the elderly man, who wasn't wearing his glasses and had no idea that he was headed directly towards Deeks, the boy and his dog.

"Deeks! Watch out!" She was running now, running as fast as she had ever run in her life, her feet slapping on the sidewalk, arms pumping and pushing forward on the balls of her feet with every step, desperately trying to move that little bit faster.

"Deeks! Get out of the road!" And now she was screaming at the top of her lungs, watching as Deeks turned around. Even from that distance Kensi could see the look of horror on his face as the car bore down upon them. And it didn't matter how fast she was running, because Kensi knew she wasn't going to get there in time.

What was it Macy had said about that alternative timeline? That Deeks had died a horrible death, and that he had died all alone, that was right. And she'd said that Kensi was the best thing that had never happened to him. Well, she'd been given another chance, Kensi realised, a chance to do things differently, and she seized it with both hands, but in the end it hadn't made any difference. Because Deeks was still going to die a horrible death; he was going to die in the road because of some stupid boy who was kicking his dog. Maybe that was the way he would have wanted it, she thought, because Deeks loved dogs. There was still a large part of the little boy whose only source of unconditional love in his childhood had been a pet dog called Monty. In the end, sooner or later, death was going to catch up with you, because you could only cheat it for so long.

Once again she could hear Macy talking. _"Kensi – enjoy your life. Do everything you want to do – because you never see the end coming. Believe me on that."_ She believed her alright.

Her legs would not support her now, and there was no choice for Kensi but to acknowledge defeat and sink down to the ground. The tarmac felt warm on her knees and the sun was shining, even though the world had just ended. In the distance, she could hear the dog barking and the sound of people shouting, but that didn't matter. Nothing mattered any more. Why hadn't Macy told her that she would want to die alongside Deeks? Why had nobody told her that it would feel as if her heart had been ripped out of her chest?

Macy had said nobody was ever ready to die, and Kensi knew that she was not ready for Deeks to die, that she would never be ready for such a thing. She'd had less than a week with him when she needed was eternity. You could only cheat time and fate for so long, it appeared and now Deeks had come to the end of his road, dying for a dog. What a stupid bastard. Kensi thumped her fist down onto the hard surface of the road and screamed out her fury and her pain, but it didn't help. It didn't help at all.

* * *

><p><em>Whoops. Evil plot bunny snuck in there when i wasn't paying attention. This was going to be a story where Deeks did NOT get maimed. (sorry, Anna) Oh well, I managed nearly 270 pages, which is a record for me.<em>

_"On jest orłem"_ - _he is an eagle  
><em>_"tobie ojczyzno" - for you, my country._


	45. Chapter 45

_You might just want to have a tissue handy for this…_

* * *

><p>Kensi thumped her fist down onto the hard surface of the road and screamed out her fury and her pain, but it didn't help. It didn't help at all. And then it struck her – there was a way to sort all this out. This didn't have to happen, it didn't have to be like this, because this had all started with a car accident in the first place.<p>

"Macy!" she screamed. "Macy – get your butt back here. Right now."

Because when you loved someone, when you really loved someone, you would do anything, absolutely anything for them – and you would do it without thinking. Kensi had changed things once and she could change them again. All she needed was a little help from Macy, just a quick intercession from her and time would rewind once again. But the silence was resounding and Macy remained noticeable by her absence.

"Macy. I need you." She was pleading now but there was still there was no answer.

Kensi scrambled back onto her feet and ran over to where Deeks was lying in the road. He was dead: she could tell that just by looking at him, but then she had known he was dead the instant the car hit him. When she picked up his hand, it was already growing cool and his eyes, although still open, were dim and staring blindly at her with no spark of life about them. Kensi bent over and kissed him on the lips for one last time. She should have known better than to think she could possibly cheat fate more than once.

"Goodbye, Marty. I love you so much, so very much. I will always love you."

Mr Humphries was still sitting in his car, securely tethered by the seat belt. He was sitting rocking back and forward, keening to himself; the boy and his dog were standing at the side of the road, cowering in shock and her neighbours were starting to come out of their houses to see what all the commotion was about. Deeks was still dead. There was no miracle this time, no second chance. Ignoring everything, Kensi sat down in the road, cradled the head of her dead lover in her lap, stroked the hair back from his face and told him how much she loved him, over and over again. Eventually, she pulled out her cell phone and took a deep breath before making the most difficult call of her life.

"Louise? It's Kensi. Oh Louise, I'm so sorry. I'm so very sorry…"

* * *

><p>"This is our date?"<p>

Sam nodded. "I thought we should start as we mean to go. Putting her first." He nodded towards the little girl, who was skipping happily towards the car. "Take some time just be together, the three of us. Because there are three of us in the marriage – it's not just you and me."

"I agree." She slipped her hand into his. "And a day out at Santa Monica sounds wonderful."

"We should have done that a long time ago." All the tourists went to the pier, after all – so why hadn't they ever done that? "I work nearby. It's called the Mission. We could drive past later on – I could show you. If you're interested. Although it doesn't look like much from the outside." Anyone who did not know better (which was roughly 99.9% of the population) would drive past the seemingly derelict building and not give it a second glance, never imagining all that went on behind those adobe walls with the paint flaking off in large chunks.

"Of course I'm interested. I'd really like that." Of course, she already knew exactly where he worked, because she'd followed him there, a dozen times or more over the years.

"There's an open-air ice rink at Santa Monica right now, and according to Deeks, it's great." Sam opened the car door to let his wife in and then shut it behind her, before getting in himself. "How about we all go ice-skating today?"

"Why don't we? But who's Deeks?"

"Deeks is this guy I work with. He used to be a cop, and before that he was a lawyer. And he's got a dog called Monty." It was more information than Sam ever given out before, he realised.

A small voice piped up from the back seat. "I want a dog. Can I have a dog, Daddy?"

"Maybe. We'll see. If you're very good. But your Mom and I will have to talk about it first." Sam looked across. "That's right, isn't it?" They had to work together and put up a united front for their daughter.

"Yes. Daddy's right. We'll talk about it later. Tell me more about Deeks. What does he look like?"

"He has annoying hair," Sam said and began to smile. "Really annoying hair."

"How can someone have annoying hair?"

"He just does. It's all kind of blond and bouncy."

"Oh." A hand patted his knee. "He sounds cute. Is he cute?"

"Oh, Deeks is adorable," he said wryly. "Cute as a button. At least Kensi thinks so."

"Kensi – she's the one Callen used to have a thing for? The secretary?"

"Well, she's not exactly a secretary. And Callen used to have a thing for her, but she had a thing for Deeks, and now Callen's got a thing for Louise. Who's Deeks' sister."

"Oh." She thought about this carefully. "Maybe if you draw me a diagram it might help, because right now it's all sounding like a bad soap-opera."

"You should try living through it. All those emotions going all over the place. It was like Love Central for a while." Sam was starting to relax now that he had finally broken his vow of secrecy. "Maybe we could all get together sometime – and then you could put the names and the faces together."

"You wouldn't mind that? You wouldn't be ashamed of me?" There had always been this nagging dread at the back of her mind that she wasn't quite good enough and that was why Sam only ever brought Callen over – Callen who was slightly strange, didn't have a first name and hadn't even had his own place until he was well over 40. Over the years, she had managed to convince herself that Sam hid her away so that she wouldn't embarrass him.

"Ashamed of you? Is that what you thought?"

"Sometimes." She'd felt so isolated, so shut out of the rigid compartments Sam forced his life into.

"Sweetheart, the proudest day of my life was the day I turned round and saw you walking up the aisle towards me. And I still can't believe that you even agreed to go out with me, far less marry me." The feeling of guilt that flooded through him nearly overwhelmed Sam. How could he have done this to his beautiful, bright and funny wife? How could he have put such awful thoughts into her head and underminded her like this?

"I couldn't resist you, Sam. I still can't." And that was her problem summed up in a nutshell: she loved him so much, because Sam was her life and without him she was nothing. So, over the years she had put up with all the pretence and secrecy, telling herself that it didn't matter. But it did and it was only when it seemed that she had already lost that Sam that all the bitterness and despair had finally come to the surface.

"Are you going to kiss Mommy?" their daughter asked, seeing the way her father was gently rubbing her mother's arm

"Not while I'm driving, sweetheart. But maybe later." Sam cast a sideways look. "If I'm a good boy."

A smile tweaked at the corners of her mouth. "We'll see."

Well, that was better than an outright 'no', Sam thought. He'd made a start, and a good start, but there was still a long way to go. He would do whatever it took, because she was worth it. He would make all this right while he still had the chance, because it was never too late.

* * *

><p>In his life Deeks had seen more than his fair share of cruelty and petty brutality. During his first weeks as a beat cop in LAPD he had actually been physically sick on more than one occasion and even now there were lots of times when things still got to him: the difference was that now he had got better at hiding his feelings under a protective shield of humour. Most of the time he succeeded. But everyone had their breaking point, their soft spot for which there was no defence. With Sam it had been Moe and then Jada; with Callen it was the Commescu connection with his mother's death and for Kensi it was a vet with PTSD – or supposed PTSD, as it turned out. For Deeks it was mindless violence to animals, especially dogs. Which was kind of ridiculous, he knew, especially when there was so much else going on. But he couldn't change the way he was and when he saw the boy kicking the living daylight out of that poor dog, Deeks saw red. There was just something about the resigned look in the animal's eyes that got to him.<p>

"Stop that. Stop that right now."

Deeks was already running down the street as he barked out the commands in a voice that brooked no disobedience. Any person with an IQ larger than their shoe size would have obeyed him instantly, recognising the threat posed by the imperious authority implicit in his delivery, but not this punk. No, he just kept on kicking the poor dog, which was whimpering in a quiet way, like this was something it was used to this, so that it was just waiting for it all to be over. By some miracle, Deeks managed to restrain himself just enough so that he didn't actually punch the stupid brat into the middle of next week, although it was a close-run thing. But he did grab the dog lead and the poor creature scuttled towards him, implicitly recognising a place of safety and refuge in this tall stranger who was haranguing her owner.

"Deeks! Watch out!"

It was Kensi's voice shouting out that warning, Deeks thought, but it was not the voice he'd grown accustomed to over the past few days. It was Kensi's old voice coming across the distance between them. It was her real voice, the one that had set a thousand shivers running up and down his spine; it was clear and true and, more than that, it was full of urgency. The urgency of her warning set his nerves jangling and his head jerking up to assess the situation.

Deeks had great reflexes, all the team did: you couldn't survive long in this game without developing virtually instantaneous reactions. But he warning came too late, because the car was driving straight towards them, and it was already close enough for Deeks to see the look of terror in the old guy's face. He could get himself out of the way – or he could get the kid and his dog out of the way. There wasn't a choice because there wasn't any time in which to think, there was only that split-second in which to act, that instant in which instinct took over and Deeks thrust the leash back into the boy's nerveless hand and then pushed him and the dog out of the way.

"Deeks! Get out of the road!"

Had there been any justice in the world, Kensi would have closed the gap between them, she would have been able to reach out and pull him to safety. But the world didn't work like that: Deeks had learned that lesson a long time ago, and he had learned it well. This was going to hurt, Deeks realised, knowing that the car was going to hit him full on and that there was nothing he could do to change things. At least the boy and his dog were safe.

Time seemed to slow right down as the car closed the few remaining feet between them, approached him in a screaming frenzy of brakes, the elderly driver's face contorted in horror. The human body, with its fragile covering of skin overlaying a friable layer of bones and its soft tissues that could be ripped apart so easily, was never going to come out best in any match against a car. Just before it hit him, Deeks closed his eyes. He'd never believed in actively looking for trouble after all, it just had a habit of finding him and this was no exception.

The initial impact broke his legs instantly, but the forward motion of the car meant that rather than allowing him to collapse down onto the road, Deeks was swept up, his torso smacking down onto the hood. Finally, his head crashed into the windshield, leaving a bulls-eye depression in the glass. It was all over before he had a chance even to scream with the pain and a blanket of smothering blackness was swooping down, enveloping him completely. Just as the dark overwhelmed him, Deeks was vaguely aware that this really didn't hurt as much as he thought it should have. In fact, now that he thought about it, his body wasn't hurting at all, quite simply because he didn't feel anything at all.

Even from a distance down the round, the noise of Deeks' skull hitting the windshield could be heard quite clearly, it could be heard above the noise of the car engine, the higher-pitched sound of its brakes and the dog barking frenziedly. Kensi heard the impact and she knew what that noise meant and exactly what the implications were. She knew that Deeks did not stand a chance, that the head injury would be catastrophic and that Deeks would be dead before his body slid off the car and down onto the ground. And she was right.

Deeks physically felt nothing - absolutely nothing. He already felt completely detached from his body, as if he was simply lifting out of it and starting to move on, like a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis: that this was something that was meant to be, which had always been the ultimate intent. More than that, Deeks realised that nothing mattered anymore, because this was literally the end of absolutely everything – at least as far as he was concerned.

So this was what death felt like: it felt like nothing. For Deeks, death had come like an old friend, someone he had been waiting for and who he recognised in an instant. It wasn't really that bad, because he could now see that his life had really been nothing more than a small pinprick of light that had flashed briefly in the darkness and then had winked back out just as quickly. In the overall scheme of things Deeks knew that he was inconsequential; he did not really matter and the world would continue on, just as it always had done. The only difference was that he was dead. Everything else had remained exactly the same.

It was beginning to look as if perhaps death was actually only the end of the beginning, rather than an end unto itself. After all, what a caterpillar called the end of the world, the Master called a butterfly. But Deeks was not ready to move on: he did not want to move on: he wanted to stay right here. It was only now that he was dead that Deeks could finally comprehend how much he had enjoyed the sheer delight of being alive. So it was true then: you never appreciated what you had until it was taken away. And he'd had so many things he wanted to do, so many things he wanted to say. Only it was too late, because this really was the end.

Deeks looked down at his broken body, as if seeing it from a great height: it was lying sprawled in an inelegant heap on the warm surface of the road and he tried rather unsuccessfully to shrug it off philosophically. So this was it. Well, it had to end somehow and somewhere. He was dead and there was nothing he could do about it now. And then he saw Kensi coming over to look at his body, how she crouched over him as he lay there on the road and in that instant Deeks knew that he was not ready to leave her. He didn't want to go. He wanted to stay right here and live some more, even if his body looked battered beyond repair. More particularly, he did not want to leave Kensi – not now and not ever, not when she was sitting down on the road and lifting his ruined head into her lap with such infinite tenderness, and then telling him how much she loved him. Deeks would have given anything to be able to tell her that he loved her, that he'd always loved and that he would never stop loving her. Death had not changed that and it never would.

But there was something tugging at him, it was pulling him away from this bright, beautiful day, where the sun was shine in a clear sky; where an old man sat in his car with a look of abject horror on his face and a dog was licking the pale cheek of a dead man who lay staring up at the sky with lifeless blue eyes. It was impossible to resist the pull of that force any longer as it tugged him towards the abyss, but Deeks kept his eyes firmly fixed on Kensi so that her face would be the last thing he saw on earth.

There was definitely pain now, an all-consuming pain that tore at his heart. Love really did hurt. Love hurt more than anything else in this world or indeed any other world. It would have been nice to have been able to say goodbye, to tell Kensi how much he loved her, but Deeks realised he would never have that opportunity, for the time for such things was gone, it was already in the past while he was being compelled to go forward. If only he wasn't alone again. Perhaps this would not be so hard if he was not alone. He hated being alone, hated it more than anything. But that was just the way things were. Finally, Deeks stopped struggling against the force and let it pull him into the blank nothingness as the sunshine disappeared forever. The last thing he saw was Kensi's unique, gorgeous eyes, filled with tears and sparkling in the sunshine. It was a hell of a pretty day and he had to go and spoil it all by dying.

* * *

><p><em>I'm sorry - but evil plot bunny said it had to be this way...<em>


	46. Chapter 46

_Oh ye of little faith…_

* * *

><p>"Louise? It's Kensi. Oh Louise, I'm so sorry. I'm so very sorry…" Before she could say anything more, a hand took the phone from her, ended the call and then switched the phone off.<p>

"No, Kensi." Macy shook her head. "Don't tell her over the phone. That's not fair." She looked down at her friend, who still stroking Deeks' face. "I'm so sorry."

Deeks' eyes were still open, Kensi realised, and that wasn't right. With a gentle hand she reached down and closed them. "He's dead, Macy. Deeks is dead." She was saying the words, even if she could not bring herself to believe this was actually happening.

"I know. And I'm sorry."

"He shouldn't have died," she said flatly. "How come you can come back and he can't?" It wasn't fair. Life wasn't fair.

"Don't ask me – I don't make the rules. I guess someone up there kind of likes you, because you called for me – and here I am."

"No, they don't like me. They don't like me at all." Kensi contradicted and gestured at Deeks. "Look at what they did? How can you look at him and say that they like me?"

There was no use in telling Kensi that none of this was personal, so instead Macy crouched down and took a long, hard look at Deeks. "He looks kind of peaceful, Kensi. Like he's sleeping, or something."

"No, he doesn't. Deeks doesn't look anything like that when he's sleeping. He kind of pouts a bit, like he's waiting to be kissed or something."

"It was quick, Kensi. At least it was quick." Her own death had not been quick – it had been slow and painful. Deeks had been spared that much.

"I don't care. I want him back, Macy. I want Deeks back."

"I can't help you there, Kensi. You know that. It's too late. I'm sorry."

"Don't say that. Don't you dare say that, Macy. You can do it."

"Kensi – he died in the other timeline too. Maybe this was just meant to be?"

"I don't care. Let's go back to Christmas Day, when he and I were in the car. That's when you first turned up – so take me back to then." Okay, it wasn't perfect, because they'd been having another of those pointless arguments they specialised in, but it was better than nothing. She could still make it alright, Kensi thought, she could still get together with Deeks, because they were meant to be together, it was as simple as that. It was the way things were meant to be, and that was all there was to say about the matter.

"You're not listening to me, Kensi. That timeline stopped – it ceased to be. We can't just wipe out a whole week – too much has happened. And besides, even if we could, it still wouldn't work."

"Why not?" Kensi jutted out her chin belligerently. "Give me one good reason."

Macy held her gaze steadily. "Because you died in that crash, Kensi. There was a malfunction in the air bag and you died."

So that was it. There was no going back this time. This had been her last chance and it wasn't going to work. Unless… "So I died," Kensi said slowly. "But what about Deeks?"

"He had some broken ribs from the seat belt, but other than that…" Macy's voice tailed off as she realised what Kensi was hinting at. "Oh no. No way."

"Way." If it meant that Deeks was alive, then why not? "I don't want to live without him, Macy. But if my dying meant that he was alive, and if I knew that he was okay, maybe even that he was happy, then I think that would be alright." Kensi had nearly said that she could live with that, but obviously she would be dead.

That was a low blow, and the hit registered with Macy. "You don't know what you're talking about, Kensi, you really don't." how could Kensi possibly know what it felt like to have to stand by and watched the man you still loved so desperately fall in love with someone else? All those conflicting feelings still plagued her, because she wanted Callen to be happy, but it still hurt terribly. "And just ask yourself this: supposing you do that – and then Deeks decides he doesn't want to live without you? Exactly what will you have achieved?"

"I don't care. I just can't stand this." She didn't want to live if Deeks was dead: it was as simple as that. Life had no meaning if he wasn't there. "If he's alive, then that's all that matters."

"Kensi, you're asking me to help you commit suicide – kind of. You know the guys up there don't like that. There's no way they would ever go for that, even if I asked them. Which I'm not going to." She knelt down on the tarmac. "Listen, I know you love him and that you always will – but you've got to let him go."

That was asking for the impossible. "Macy – please. Please? You're the only person who can help me. Please"

"I wish I could, I really do." Macy put her arms around Kensi and rocked her gently back and forward, and in the distance the sound of sirens split the air, while the dog lifted its head back and howled.

* * *

><p>"Damn." He knew he should have left his cell phone back at Deeks'. He was on a day off and he deserved to be left alone.<p>

"Answer it. It might be important," his wife said, trying very hard to be reasonable and understanding.

"Daddy said a bad word."

"Sorry." For a young child, she sure could sound smug, Sam thought. He wasn't sure which one of them he was speaking to, or even if it mattered. "This better be good," he said when he answered the call.

"It's important, Mr Hanna. I need you to divert immediately."

"I've got my family with me, Hetty."

"They will be quite safe. I'm sorry, Sam – but you have to hear this. We've had reports of a fatality half a mile away from you. Auto versus pedestrian. Oh Sam - it was Marty. He's dead and I think Kensi will need somebody." Hetty's voice was breaking, something Sam had never heard it do before, but he knew exactly how she was feeling and he knew that he had to go there immediately.

"I'm on my way. Send me the location." He ended the call abruptlyand then handed the phone to his wife. "I'm going to need you to read out directions. And then you need to both go home."

"Sam? What's happened?" She wasn't arguing or even protesting, because it was very clear that something was badly wrong.

"It's Deeks. He's dead." And that didn't sound right. It sounded completely wrong. How could Deeks be dead? He was too alive, too vital and far too young to die.

"Deeks – he's the one with the hair?" The one she thought sounded cute. Sam had tried to put on a front when talking about him, but he liked Deeks – that fact had come across loud and clear. And right now Sam was hurting. And that meant that she was hurting for him.

"Yeah. That's Deeks. And I need to be there for him – and Kensi." Not Deeks – Deeks can't be dead, he can't be. And Kensi – she's only just out of the hospital. What is this going to do to Kensi? What's it going to do to the team? Sam's thoughts flew around his head in an uncoordinated flurry, like so many birds flapping wildly and getting nowhere fast.

"And I need to be there for you. We can call Michelle – she'll come by and pick up you-know- who." She indicated the little girl sitting behind them both, the child with her father's eyes and her mother's smile, the child who was the living embodiment of their love. "But I need to be there for you, Sam. Please let me."

"I think I'm going to need you too." He was barely hanging on by a thread right now, trying to process the information, not wanting to believe it and yet at the same time knowing that Hetty would have made sure of the facts before contacting him. And he wanted to break down and cry, and be comforted, only this was neither the time nor the place. Later – there would be time for such a thing hereafter.

"I'm here, Sam. Whenever you need me, I'll be right beside you."

Just as she always had been, he realised. He had only been able to do this job, to be the man he was because he knew that he could rely on her to be there, to pick up everything that he left hanging: to look after their daughter, pay the bills and even to water the lawn so that it was as green and lush as possible. Whatever time Sam came home, he knew that she would be there, that she would be waiting for him. It was only now that he was beginning to realisewhat a strain he had put on her, how worried she must be each time he left, wondering if she would ever see him again. And to think he only ever wore his wedding band at home, carefully removing it before he went to work. What kind of a signal had that given out? Yet she had stood by him throughout it all.

"I don't deserve you." And that was a plain statement of the truth, Sam thought.

"Probably not. But you've got me anyway." And it struck her that, with a little work, maybe they could have a great marriage too.

"Woman – I love you. I honestly love you." And that was something he had not told her nearly enough. From now on, he would make a point of telling her that as often as possible, so that she never had to doubt his love again. Because he truly was not worthy of her love and support and he had so nearly thrown it all away.

* * *

><p>Callen gave the coffee-machine a long, hard look and then tentatively turned a knob, jumping back in considerable surprise when high-pressure steam started to vent out from a nozzle. This was more complicated than it looked and he was gaining a whole new appreciation for barristas.<p>

"Is that coffee?" Louise gave him a smile that went straight down to his toes as Callen proudly handed across a demi-tasse of fragrant, rich espresso. She sipped it slowly and appreciatively. "That hits the spot. I've just had the strangest phone call from Kensi."

"Kensi? At this hour?" Callen was surprised that Kensi was even up in the first place, far less that she actually had either the strength or inclination to call Louise. She and Deeks were clearly slipping. Yong people today… He took a sip of his own coffee and felt as if the enamel was being stripped from his teeth. Clearly this the reason the latte had been invented.

"It was definitely Kensi, even if she hung up before I could speak. And the weirdest thing was her voice."

"Aren't you getting used to it by now? I mean, you can understand what she says – it just doesn't sound like her, that's all."

Louise shook her head. "No, that's not what I'm talking about. This was her voice – her real voice I mean. Just as clear as it used to be – and none of the hesitation either."

For some reason, Callen found all the hairs on his forearms were standing up. That coffee must be stronger than he'd thought. "What did she say?"

"That she was sorry. Which doesn't make any sense at all. Why would Kensi be apologising to me?"

Callen had no idea, but now he was worried – seriously worried. Over the years he had learned to listen to his instincts, and they were all screaming 'red alert'. He couldn't ignore this, nor could he take the chance that it was just a red herring, that everything was fine.

"I'm going to call Hetty – just in case."

The resulting discussion was brief, but he could tell that Hetty was taking it seriously. When she called back ten minutes later, Callen's bright new world received its first crack in an otherwise pristine finish as she told him the news in a sombre fashion.

"Louise is named as his next of kin." Hetty's voice was trembling and her normal crisp diction was replaced by a slurred undertone of heavy grief.

"I hear what you're saying. There's no hope? None at all?"

"Absolutely none. If you would prefer, I could come out to your house and tell her myself?"

Trust Hetty to make such an offer. "No, I'll do it. I owe him that much." It would be the last thing he could do for Deeks, after all – other than weep for his loss and mourn him. And it would be one of the hardest things he had ever done in his life.

Ending the call, Callen turned to Louise and held out his arms. "Come here, sweetheart. I've got to tell you something." He kept her wrapped tightly in his embrace as he spoke, and told her that it had been quick, her brother would have felt no pain at all. Callen held Louise close as he told her that Marty, her beloved brother, was dead. And as he told her, he was conscious that he had never been 'Marty', but always just 'Deeks'. Why was that? It shouldn't matter, but it did, it niggled away at him. Why had he always insisted on saying 'Deeks'?

* * *

><p>"Kensi, you have to let him go now." Macy was openly pleading with her, but Kensi was just rocking slowly back and forwards as she cradled Deeks' body to her, like a mother soothing her child to sleep.<p>

"No. Leave me alone. Leave us alone."

"Honey – he's dead." The voice belonged to a woman about her own age, who had an obsession with garden ornaments. Every week or so, a new one appeared in the small patch of grass outside her house and Kensi often saw her moving them around, trying to get the perfect arrangement.

"I know." She might be grieving, but Kensi hadn't lost all her ability to think rationally, after all. But you didn't stop loving someone just because they were dead – if possible, you loved them even more.

Macy got up slowly: there was a small crowd of people gathering around and they would look after Kensi. Then in a few moments the ambulance would arrive and shortly after that they would take Deeks away. So she could leave, knowing that they would both be taken care o.f There was nothing more for her to do here. Macy knew that she shouldn't even have come in the first place, but she hadn't been able to stop herself. There would be hell to pay when she got back – and she could only hope that would not be taken too literally. More than anything, Macy wished there was something she could do to help Kensi – Kensi, who had been willing to die, so that Deeks might live. There was no greater love than that, she thought. And that ought to count for something. No, scrub that thought – it was going to count for something, because she was going to make it count. That kind of love was too rare and too precious to be allowed to disappear.

So she couldn't rewind time and go back to the original accident: fine. There were some rules that could not be broken - but they could be bent, just a little bit – couldn't they? What was thirty minutes or so? It was hardly anything – the length of a cat nap perhaps, or the time spent relaxing in a hot bath after a long, hard day. It was only thirty minutes, and nobody would ever even know. Well, obviously the people up there would know – but what could they do? It wasn't like they could kill her, or anything like that, given that she was already dead. Macy would probably be sent to sit on the celestial equivalent of the naughty step for a couple of centuries or so, but she could cope with that.

"Kensi: maybe we can't go right back, but I might be able to work something out. Sort of bend time back over on itself, just a little bit. How does that sound?" So it was cheating and, more than that, it was against all the rules, but Macy found that she didn't care. Sometimes you just had to take a stand and do the right thing.

"Oh, Macy." Kensi looked up at her. "You are the best friend ever."

"Just make sure you remember that. The very least you can do is to name your first-born after me."

"Anything, Macy. Anything at all."

"I can't give you much time, so you're going to have to be quick, understand."

"Totally." Kensi was aware that her neighbour with the fetish for plastic flamingos thought she was delusional, sitting here talking to herself, but what did it matter? What did anything matter – just as long as this worked. If Macy could just turn back time briefly, then everything would be alright.

* * *

><p>"Okay – this is weird. This is officially weird." One minute he was floating around in this dark nothingness, and then the next thing he knew Deeks found himself standing outside Kensi's apartment. Only everything was vague and kind of blurry, like someone had been messing with the controls of a TV, so that the picture had lost most of the colour and was out of focus. What the hell was going on? The last thing he could remember was starting to go out for a run with Kensi – and then it was like someone had turned out all the lights and there was nothing - until now.<p>

"This is called a second chance." A tall, slim woman materialised from out of nowhere and held out her hand. "Lara Macy. Late of NCIS."

"The Lara Macy?" People still spoke about her in hushed tones, with an odd sort of reverence in their voices. Except Callen, who would just excuse himself whenever her name was brought up.

She grinned. "Nicely put. I can see why Kensi has this thing for you. Listen, you know you're cute and I know you're cute, but we don't have time to go into all that. And anyway, I'm a one-man kind of girl – even if I'm dead."

"You're dead?" Deeks said weakly, wondering what the hell was going on. Why was a dead woman flirting with him?

"Yes – and so are you. But that's not important right now."

"No, it is. Very important. It's life-changingly important" Deeks shook his head in disbelief. "I'm dead? Really?" He didn't feel dead – he felt exactly the same as always – except considerably more confused.

Macy glared at him. "Yes – really. And that's n incredibly annoying habit you've got, by the way – saying 'really' all the time. Do us all a favour and try to break yourself of it."

"I don't feel dead." Deeks glared right back at her.

"You're dead – believe me. The lack of a pulse should be kind of a give-away."

Sure enough, she was right. Deeks tried both wrists and his neck, just to be sure.

"How about I help you to try and find a pulse in your groin too?" Macy suggested and then caught herself. "No – Callen wouldn't like that."

"Callen? Really?" Deeks couldn't remember taking any drugs, but obviously he had. And he was never doing that again, because this trip was seriously freaky.

"Callen – the love of my life. When I was alive, obviously. Which I'm not any more, equally obviously. And that brings us neatly back to the subject – namely you being dead."

"Next time you have to tell someone that sort of news, you might want to consider breaking it a little more gently," he suggested.

"Why? It's not like you were going to die of shock or anything like that, is it?"

She had a point, Deeks thought.

"Anyway, like I was saying – you're dead. But only just. So it's not too late."

"Are you trying to tell me I don't have to be dead? That I can go back?"

"You're not quite as dumb as you look, are you?" Macy grinned to show she was only joking and then patted him on the cheek for good measure. The butt cheek. She might be dead, technically speaking, but her nobody had told her libido that. "Yes – you can go back. But only if you want to."

He didn't have to think twice about that, in fact Deeks didn't have to think about it at all. "I want to. No offence, but being dead sucks."

"Ain't that the truth?" Macy sighed. "Go on – go on back and have a great life. You won't remember any of this when you get there, by the way."

"Of course I won't," he agreed politely. Suddenly Hetty looked like the best, most straightforward and open boss on the planet.

"But I need you to do me a favour."

"Sure. Anything." It was the least he could do in return for his life.

"Give Kensi a message from me. Tell that she's to love like she'll never been hurt and to live like it's heaven on earth".

* * *

><p><em>Well – are we all happy now? Did you really think I'd kill Deeks? Like I keep telling you, I am an absolutely lovely person. You just have to trust me. Evil plot bunny has gone off in a huge huff now.<em>

_On a more serious note: huge thanks to everyone who is reading and reviewing. The support and encouragement I get from you really makes a huge difference._


	47. Chapter 47

"Give Kensi a message from me. Tell that she's to love like she'll never been hurt and to live like it's heaven on earth".

"How can I do that if I don't remember?" Deeks protested, but Macy was just smiling enigmatically, looking uncannily like the Mona Lisa in the process.

"It'll come to you," she promised and then watched as the world seemed to shimmer and dissipate before her eyes in a shower of raindrops. It was a beautiful day after all: the sun was shining, the birds were singing and life was too precious simply to be squandered away. Sometimes you simply had to break all the rules… She shrugged in a totally unrepentant way. This had been worth it, well worth it. But now it was time to go, and this time she knew that she would not be back; this time it was forever. Three departures from this world was more than enough for any one soul.

The last thing that Deeks heard was Macy saying "I'll be watching you," before the blank darkness reclaimed him. He wasn't quite sure if that was a promise or a threat.

* * *

><p>"We're going to take this slow and gentle," Deeks warned, locking the door behind them.<p>

Kensi gave herself a small shake, having expected some sort of warning that time was folding back in on itself: perhaps a flash of blinding light or even a roll of thunder – but not this abrupt cut through black to replay events. Less than a heartbeat ago she was sitting on the road, cradling Deeks' dead body in her arms, for all the world like the Pieta come to life– now here she was once more, standing outside her front door, just as if the previous thirty minutes had not happened. Which they hadn't of course, She was being given a completely blank slate, a fresh sheet of paper upon which to write the story of her life upon. From now on any mistakes, blots or scoring outs would be her responsibility and hers alone – and there would be no erasing what was written. But this time it was going to be different: of that Kensi was sure. Because she had seen what the future could bring far too many times. She knew exactly how drastically the world could change and she knew exactly where she wanted her life to go – and she wanted it to go forward, with Deeks at her side. Her heart leapt jubilantly in her chest as she saw Deeks standing there beside her – living and breathing and looking so fine that it took all her strength not to leap into his arms again.

"What's the matter?" Deeks had the strangest feeling, as if the world was tilting subtly on its axis, just enough to imbalance everything.

"Nothing, absolutely nothing. Everything is just fine." And it was. Everything was perfect. "I was just thinking that was what you said last night. Or was it this morning?"

Deeks started to jog along the sidewalk, with that loping stride she knew so well. "Can I help it if you're irresistible and you make me lose control?"

"No – but you could go a little slower." Kensi strained to make her voice sound as pathetic as possible. Normally she would have bitten her tongue before admitting any weakness, but this was different – now she would use any means, fair or foul, to make sure that they stayed safely away from the accident spot.

That literally stopped him in his stride. "Sorry. I didn't think. How about we just slow this right down – to a walk?" They'd joked so often about how she was Wonder Woman that he was starting to believe it half the time. It was hard for Deeks to believe there was anything that Kensi could not do.

"That would be good." Oh yes, a brisk walk on this wonderful day sounded amazing. "You don't mind?"

"Mind? Hell no. Actually, I kind of hate running. I mean, it's necessary and all that – to keep in shape – but it's kind of boring."

"Isn't it just?" Deathly boring. Or even deadly boring, whichever way you looked at it.

Deeks grinned down at her. "Your speech is really coming on, you know?" Now there was much more tone and colour creeping back in to her voice, which was losing the flat monotone and regaining its familiar cadences.

"I'm still slow." But what did it matter? She would work on that.

"So, what did I say last night that made you think?"

Oh well, she had started revealing her heart, so she might as well continue. "You said you wouldn't leave me."

"And I won't. I don't ever want to leave you. I want to go to sleep with you in my arms every night and wake up beside you in the morning." Wow – where had that come from? No matter, because it was true.

"That's a date, then."

"Shit." Deeks suddenly halted as he saw a boy a short distance along the road, who was belabouring his dog. "What the hell does he think he's doing?" Instantly he broke into action, sprinting along the road before Kensi could say a single word. But it was alright, she thought. This time it was going to be alright.

"Stop that. Stop that right now." Deeks was bellowing out the order and the boy jerked at the peremptory tone in his voice. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"It's just a stupid dog." The boy looked to be about fifteen, sixteen at the most, with a sulky cast to his face. The dog, which appeared to be the result of an unlikely alliance of a chance encounter between a corgi and a dalmation, was cowering piteously by his side.

"You're the stupid one." Deeks had a good six inches over the teen, not to mention around fifty pounds of pure muscle and he was blazing with righteous indignation.

Kensi jogged towards them and watched as Mr Humphries pulled into his driveway, and got slowly out of the car. "New glasses, Mr H?"

"All the better to see pretty ladies with." His eightieth birthday was fast approaching, but that didn't mean he'd lost his taste for the finer things in life. And the new prescription in his glasses made the world a whole lot sharper. "That boy shouldn't be allowed a dog," he said in disgust.

"I don't think he's going to have a dog much longer, not if my partner's got anything to do with it," Kensi said firmly and went over to where they were standing.

The boy's face was white with terror, but his attitude was still firmly in place. "You like the dog so much? You have her. She ain't worth jack anyway." The lead was thrust into Deeks' hand and the boy stalked away, his knees trembling so hard that he almost fell over.

"Looks like we've got ourselves a dog," Kensi said neutrally.

"What else could I do?"

Well, you could have got yourself killed, Kensi thought, and then dismissed that thought immediately. Deeks was right here and therefore that had never happened. But she couldn't forget how the dog had licked his face as he lay there on the road in that unholy alternative reality. Love and loyalty – who could possibly ask for anything more?

"You've got a real soft spot for the underdog, haven't you Deeks?" Kensi watched as he crouched down in the road and started to pet the dog, which responded immediately: ears going forward and tail wagging enthusiastically. "Love like you've never been hurt," she whispered in an undertone.

"And live like it's heaven on earth," Deeks responded instantly and then shook his head in disbelief. "That's what Macy said." But who the heck was Macy?

"Macy?" Kensi's voice was sharp and clear. "How do you know Macy?" Macy had died long before Deeks had ever joined NCIS. Was that where Macy had gone after she left that last time? Had she gone and spoken to Deeks, so that this was one last message from her?

"I don't – and yet I do. Sort of." It was all jumbled up in his mind, almost as if he was having one of those Proustian moments of _deja vue_ where you suddenly realised that you knew all about this, because you had been there before. There was definitely some subtext going on here.

"Macy was my best friend. I owe her so much." Kensi knew she owed absolutely everything to Lara Macy. In her head she could almost hear Macy saying 'Damn right you do. So don't go and mess things up, because life is too damned short.' So she'd better start as she meant to go on. "There's a convenience store up ahead. We could go on up there and get some dog food. She looks hungry." You could count all the dog's ribs without any difficulty at all.

"Good idea." They walked there together, just another young couple out enjoying the day, with their arms wrapped around one another and a mongrel of indeterminate heritage walking closely beside them. It was a beautiful day and it had only just begun.

* * *

><p>"What have you done to Monty?" Sam asked and looked at the dog again in disbelief. Deeks really did have a knack for getting hold of the strangest looking animals. This one had rather foreshortened legs and a sort of beige coat that looked as if someone had splattered paint all over it in random splodges.<p>

"Very funny. This isn't Monty – and you know it. Or you should, seeing as how Monty's a boy and this here's a girl. How's it working out with you and Monty anyway?"

"A lot better since I washed him. And brushed him." Sam looked meaningfully at Deeks' hair. "But I don't suppose that ever occurred to you?"

"Too droll, Sam. And the rest?" Deeks didn't want to jinx things by asking Sam outright how he was getting on with patching up his marriage.

"My daughter adores Monty. We've been going out for walks together – as a family. All three of us, plus Monty," Sam added, just in case the meaning wasn't entirely clear. Last night they'd finally walked along the beach as the sun set and later on, once it was dark he'd built a bonfire and they'd all sat around it, toasting marshmallows. It was something they should have done a long time ago. It was something they were definitely going to do again.

"That's great. Really great. So… you think maybe…?" Deeks didn't want to tempt fate by presuming too much.

"Put it this way – you'll be losing a houseguest at the weekend." Try as he might, Sam couldn't quite keep the joy out of his voice when he said this. "I finally got a whole lot of things straightened out." Straightened out in his head and in his house.

They didn't hug, because they were men and men did not engage in physical contact with other men – not unless they were fighting them, or if they had scored a winning touchdown, or perhaps if they were very drunk indeed. Men didn't hug under any other circumstances – because they were men and it was encoded into their DNA.

"I'm proud of you, man." Deeks extended his hand and Sam nearly took it, but at the last moment he stopped and pulled Deeks into a brief embrace, thumping him on the back.

"Thanks for being there." Embarrassed now, Sam pulled away. He didn't do this sort of thing – but it had felt right.

"Yeah. You know." Blushing a bright pink, Deeks didn't know where to look, so he let his gaze drop down to the floor, where the dog sat patiently, albeit with an expectant look in her eyes. "Really?"

The tail thumped hopefully on the ground and the pleading look increased until it was impossible to ignore.

"We did a five mile loop not two hours ago. How can you need to go again?"

The dog dropped her head, wondering if this meant another beating. She didn't understand the words, but she thought that this new human was not pleased with her. Two days of loving care with Kensi and Deeks had not been enough to eradicate her memories of senseless brutality. Her tail stopped wagging, her ears went back and the joyful light in her eyes was replaced by fear.

"Aw, heck." Instantly remorseful, Deeks dropped to his knees on the ground beside her and began ruffling her fur, talking in a low, consoling voice.

"What's up?" Sam had taken to carrying a few dog treats in his pocket, so he held one out and watched as the dog sniffed it carefully before accepting it.

"She's been through a hard time." Deeks related the tale and sighed. "I mean, she's a sweetheart and I'd keep her, but I think she's going to need one-on-one attention. And with Monty around, that's not going to be possible. It wouldn't be fair to either of them. But I can't her in a shelter, can I?"

"Because nobody would take her?" Putting his head to one side, Sam surveyed the dog critically. "She is kind of funny looking."

"No." Flashing him a look of anger, Deeks continued petting the dog. "That's not it at all. Because putting her in a shelter would be like a betrayal. She needs to be loved. She needs someone to love her and someone she can love back. You wouldn't understand."

"I do." Callen had been listening to the conversation. "I know exactly what you mean." All those journeys he had made with the social services, wondering if this net foster home was going to be the one where he finally fitted in, where he discovered the family that had been waiting: all those journeys that began in hope and which all ended in disappointment.

"Dogs don't judge you, Sam." Satisfied the dog was alright, Deeks stood back up. "They just give you love, no matter what. So what if she looks a bit… different."

"So does Deeks, and we kept him," Callen reminded his partner.

"See - that's the thing about dogs – they just love like they've never been hurt." The next thing Deeks knew, Callen's fingers were tightening around in his forearm in a painful grip. "What did I say?"

"Say that again."

"Love like you've never been hurt?"

Callen nodded. "Kensi told you?" His eyes were bleak and for an instant he looked every bit as vulnerable as the dog.

"Kensi told me what?" Deeks looked at him carefully. "Callen – I don't know what you're talking about."

With relief Callen realised that Kensi had not betrayed his confidence after all and that what had passed between still remained a secret. "It's just that, well, a friend of mine used to say that all the time." He smiled as he remembered Macy, and all the good times they had shared together. Now that he had finally let go of the pain and grief, it was the positive things he remembered – like the laughter and the love and the thought of Macy was no longer painful.

"That dog," Sam began and Deeks jerked back to reality.

"She's not – has she?" He looked down at the floor, which was thankfully bone dry.

Sam continued as if he had not spoken, which was something he'd had quite a lot of practice with. "That dog needs a proper family of her own." A germ of an idea was beginning to form in his mind.

* * *

><p>"Really? Really and truly, daddy?"<p>

Sam had always known it would be a mistake to introduce his family to his workmates – and this just proved it. Already his precious daughter had picked up Deeks' speech habits. "Yes, she's really ours."

"Forever and ever?"

It was a good thing the dog was patient, because the little girl had thrown her arms around it and was hugging it as tightly as she could.

"She's ours now. That means she's part of the family. And families stay together always. Always and forever." She'd been pleading for a dog for days now, and this seemed the perfect solution: she was happy, the dog was happy – heck, even Deeks was happy. And that made Sam happy.

"Good. What's she called?"

"She doesn't have a name – so we've got to choose one."

The child looked at her new pet carefully. "Macy," she announced after a long moment.

"Why Macy?" Sam asked carefully. It had to be co-incidence – didn't it?

"Just because."

"Macy's the name of her imaginary friend, Sam."

"She's not imaginary! She's real – you just can't see her." Because they were grown up and kind of boring.

For a moment, Sam felt as if a goose was walking over his grave. "What does Macy look like?" he asked cautiously.

"Oh, she's old. Almost as old as you. And she's really pretty, with long straight hair. Blonde hair. And she's got blue eyes. I want long hair. Can I grow my hair, Mommy?"

"We'll see," her mother said cautiously, looking at the expression on Sam's face. "Is everything alright?"

"We used to have a boss called Macy," he said in an undertone, "Lara Macy. And that sounded an awful lot like her."

"It's probably just a co-incidence," she said comfortingly. "You know what children are like."

"Macy tells me not to be scared. She says that everything will be fine. And she says that I've got to live like it's heaven on earth. What's heaven like, Daddy?"

"This is." Sam took his wife in his arms. "This is what heaven is like." And if Lara Macy was looking down from heaven, he hoped that she did not mind having an exceptionally homely dog named after her.

"I love you, Macy," his daughter said. It had been a very long time since anybody had said that and even if it was directed at a dog, it still made MAcy smile when she heard it. Finally, it looked as if her job was done.

* * *

><p>"<em>I love how your eyes close<br>Whenever you kiss me."_

"Does that mean you keep your eyes open when we smooch?" Deeks asked, coming up behind Kensi and starting to kiss the nape of her neck. She was standing in front of a large mirror and got a familiar surge of emotion when she saw his fair head appear over her shoulder.

"I'm trying to practice here." Kensi didn't move away from the embrace, on the contrary, she leaned into it. The therapist had been spot on when she said that singing would help to increase her verbal fluency. And it was mere co-incidence that Kensi chose to sing the slushiest, most romantic songs she could find. Okay, so technically she wasn't the world's greatest singer – but Deeks didn't seem to object in the slightest.

"I could stop?" His hands were now covering her breasts.

"Oh no you couldn't." Kensi placed her own hands on top of his, smiled into the mirror and continued singing:  
><em>"And when I'm away from you<br>I love how you miss me."_

"Why would I ever go away from you?" he objected and started to nibble on her ear. "Keep singing, by the way. It's really working for me."

It was working for Kensi too.  
><em>"I love the way your kiss is always heavenly<br>But darling most of all  
>I love how you love me."<em>

"So why don't you show me just how much you love me, Deeks?" she invited.

* * *

><p>"I Love How You Love Me" lyrics by Barry Mann and Larry Kolbert<p>

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	48. Chapter 48

_The time has come, as the walrus once said… and in this case, the time has come to bring this story to a conclusion I hope you'll find satisfying after all the alarms and excurstions of the preceding forty-seven chapters. And yes, it's a little bit sentimental..._

_Grateful thanks to BDF for all his help with the technical details and for providing the inspiration in the first place. And for transforming me into a new woman with a cool, funky hairdo!_

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><p>"So why don't you show me just how much you love me, Deeks?" Kensi invited.<p>

He looked up and their gazes met in the mirror: blue eyes met brown and the same intent was clearly signalled in each. "Why don't I just do that?"

Deeks bent forward and started to kiss along her collarbone, kisses that grew in intensity as Kensi leant her head back against his shoulder and wriggled her hips against him. He was kissing her neck now and she turned first her head and then her whole body, desperate to feel his lips against hers, to feel the burning fire inside her blaze just a little more intensely. She let her hand slip underneath Deeks' shirt to rest in the small of his back and at her touch he deepened the kiss still further. Suddenly clothes were just an impediment, something to be discarded as quickly as possible, totally extraneous and completely undesired. They needed to feel the warmth of skin against skin, the solace of being as close as possible to the other person and to feel the heat build up between them.

"I love how you love me too." Deeks loved the way he could feel her heart beating against his own as they sank down onto the floor. They knew each other now, knew the secrets of each other's bodies, know exactly what would bring the most pleasure, what would delay the climax and what would cause that sharp intake of breath, or that low moan, or even that writhing in sheer sensuous delight.

Kensi abandoned herself to the moment, to all the sensations and desires that were flooding her body, craving his touch, and reaching out to touch him in turn.

"I just love you, Kensi." Deeks was above her now, hair flopping forward and eyes hugely dilated. "I just love you so much." He punctuated each word with a kiss.

"I love you too." Kensi reached up to him and pulled him in. "I totally love you." She held him as if she would never let him go.

* * *

><p><strong>Twelve Months Later…<strong>

_Maybe this Christmas will mean something more  
>Maybe this year love will appear<br>Deeper than ever before;_

"Are you sure we can manage that?" Doubt and reluctance informed every syllable.

"We can manage." Joanna looked at her husband and smiled. "Come on Sam – it's no big deal. And it'll be fun. We spent Thanksgiving with Callen and Louise, so it's our turn now."

"Still – having the whole team over for Christmas dinner – I mean… it's a lot of work."

"I've already asked them."

"Everyone?" Sam asked weakly, knowing when he was beaten.

"Everyone. And that includes Nell and Eric."

"Supposing they've had another argument?" Their relationship was volatile, to say the least. Nell didn't have red hair for nothing.

"Then that's their problem, not ours."

Sam wasn't quite so sanguine, as they had a nasty habit of both arguing and then making up in public. However, he judged it safest to bring up another line of attack – or informed reasoning, as he liked to think of it. "But what about the puppies?" Macy had given birth to a litter four weeks ago – four girls and one boy. From the looks of things, the father had been a black Labrador, although it was hard to be sure.

"They won't mind," Joanna assured him blithely, rather missing the point, Sam felt. "Anyway, what could possibly be cuter that a puppy? People love puppies. People see little, wriggly puppies and fall in love. And they'll be just ready to go away from Macy by then."

There was method in her madness after all. "So that's our Christmas presents to the team sorted then? Woman, I love the way you think."

So it looked like this Christmas was going to be completely different. This Christmas he wasn't going to go mad trying to find the latest 'must-have' piece of plastic tat for Carina, only to have Eric come up trumps at the very last minute. This Christmas he would not have the spectre of Jada hanging over his head like some modern day equivalent of the sword of Damocles. Now he had a new life, and it turned out that this new life was pretty much what Sam had always wanted. He could share things with his wife - really share them - and they spent a lot more time together as a family. Macy had helped immensely- they had all united to look after her and to love her. In return, she gave them endless devotion. So what if the puppies hadn't been planned? Like Joanne said, they were cute – and Sam suspected that at least two of them would be going home with one or other of his team members.

"There's just one thing. When you said 'the whole team' – exactly what did you mean?"

Joanne looked at him and smiled. "I didn't invite Granger. Or Hunter. Or even Vance. But maybe next Christmas… Never say never, Sam."

* * *

><p><em>And maybe forgiveness will ask us to call<br>Someone we love  
>Someone we've lost<br>For reasons we can't quite recall_

"You're sure you're okay with this?" It was their first Christmas together, after all. They could have spent the day in bed together, doing nothing in particular, although Callen was pretty sure he could have come up with something.

"I'm sure." Louise picked up a her sweater and thought once more that moving to California had been the best move of her life – and not only because of the weather. Who wanted to be in freezing cold New York when they could have temperate California, all blue skies and warm weather – and Callen. She had it all. She even had a house with furniture in it.

"We don't have to do this, you know. We could just go straight on over to Sam's." Although he had suggested this in the first place, Callen wasn't quite so sure about it now. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now it was actually Christmas day, he was having second thoughts. Finally he had the life he had always dreamed off, so why was he even thinking about doing something that could put all of this in jeopardy?

"Callen – you need to do this. And I need to go with you. Okay?"

"Were you born this bossy – or did you have to work at it?"

Louise just gave him an old-fashioned look and then tossed him the car keys, which Callen caught one-handed. "You think I don't know about that secret Christmas present you've got me, don't you, Callen? The one in the box from Agent Provocateur? Well, if you want me to model it for you tonight…"

"I'll drive. And we'll make that detour before we go to Sam's."

"Good boy. Another couple of years and we'll have you fully house-trained."

"You want me to sit up and beg?" he asked, trying to sound sarcastic, but failing to keep the laughter out of his voice. Louise had him exactly where she wanted him – which co-incidentally enough was exactly where Callen wanted to be.

A knowing smile crept across her face. "Not right now. But later on – let's just say that'll do nicely. Very nicely indeed."

So they drove along strangely silent streets, LA being almost deserted as its inhabitants celebrated the festive season and eventually came of the Hollywood freeway in the heart of downtown, pulling in beside the cathedral.

"Our Lady of The Angels," Callen said quietly. "This seemed the right place."

"Good choice."

Louise linked her arm through his and they entered together, walking towards a side altar. Callen reached out and took a votive candle, lit it and watched as Louise did the same. Then he bowed his head briefly. He did not pray – not exactly. It had been a long time since he had prayed, but he thought of Macy and all that she had meant, and he wished her God speed. Above all, Callen hoped that she was at peace and that she knew how much he had loved her. A part of him would always love her – that would never change. When he finally looked up and his eyes cleared enough to be able to focus properly, it was to find that Louise was kneeling before the altar, back straight, hands clasped reverently and gazing straight ahead with great intent. He hadn't expected that, having thought that she would stand to one side and merely observe.

After a few minutes, Louise stood up, whispered something and then came to stand by his side.

"What was that you said?"

"_Lux aeterna_. You know how we lawyers love Latin. It means 'eternal light'. I was just wishing her well." She wasn't jealous of Macy, not in the slightest. Macy had been an important part of Callen's life, and for that Louise would always be grateful. His love for Macy did not impinge on his love for her. And besides, she had offered up her own prayers, as well as those for Macy.

Callen closed his eyes briefly, and offered up a simple prayer of gratitude that consisted of one word, and one word only. It was no less heartfelt or sincere for its brevity. He had been lost, but now he was found. And he was getting to spend this Christmas with the woman he loved. Maybe this Christmas was going to be the best one ever? They walked out together, leaving the two candles burning brightly and bravely, twin beacons of hope for the future and Louise knew for certain that this Christmas was only the begining.

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><p><em>Maybe there'll be an open door<br>Maybe the star that shined before  
>Will shine once more.<em>

"David – oh my."

It had to happen at some point – although it was a considerable shock to actually find that she was literally speechless. But for possibly the first time in her life Henrietta Lang found that she was at a complete loss for words as she opened her door on Christmas morning to find her son standing there. All she could do after her initial exclamation of joy was to open her arms wide.

"Merry Christmas, Hetty." David enveloped her in an embrace, almost lifting her off her feet in her enthusiasm.

"Merry Christmas," Hetty managed to say. Her heart was too full to say anymore, because this was the best present she could ever have imagined. Suddenly remembering her manners, she opened the door wide and beckoned him forward. "Won't you come in?"

David looked slightly abashed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "I hope you don't mind – but I brought a friend with me. Is it alright?"

"Alright? Of course it's alright. Come in, both of you." Hetty would not have minded if her son had brought his entire platoon with him, such was her joy. All these years, she had thought of him on every birthday and every Christmas, never quite daring to dream that she would ever be able to spend even a minute of these special days with him. But he was here now, and that was the best present she had ever received and quite possibly the greatest gift of all.

Right up until the moment she said that, David was still full of doubts. He'd nearly ducked out of coming at the last moment, but the card with Deeks' cell-phone number on it was still in his wallet, nearly a year after they had last met. Gathering all his courage together, David had called him that morning to find out where Hetty was currently staying. Now, seeing the look on her face, he knew he had made the right decision and felt that he had finally come home.

Turning around, David held out his hand and a young woman walked forward. "Hetty – I'd like you to meet my fiancée, Charlotte Peters. And Charlotte – this is Hetty Lang. My mother."

Maybe this Christmas, they would learn to make a new sort of family.

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><p><em>And maybe this Christmas will find us at last<br>In heaven, at peace  
>Prayed for at least<br>For the love we've been shown in the past  
><em>

"They're late." Eric had to push up his sweater sleeve in order to be able to look at his watch. This year, the Jones family sweaters were a dark crimson, with a repeating reindeer motif on them, and Mrs Jones appeared to think he had arms that would do justice to a young orang utan.

"Deeks is always late," Sam informed him. He too was wearing his Christmas sweater, as was every other person filling the Hanna's living room, and overflowing into the kitchen. Everyone except David and Charlotte. Luckily for them, Mrs Jones did not have the gift of prophecy.

"I thought Kensi might be a good influence – reform him, even. Clearly I was wrong." Callen sighed in a melodramatic fashion.

"Kensi's good – but she's not that good. There's a limit to what even she can achieve with my little brother."

Louise already had a female puppy firmly ensconced on her lap and Sam could hear his daughter trying to convince her to take the boy too, so that they wouldn't be lonely. He had a strong suspicion that Louise and Callen would be going home with two puppies that evening. And judging by the way Nell was eyeing up the remaining two, Eric was going to be getting an unexpected present too. Excellent. He rather thought they would keep the remaining girl – just so that her mother would not lose all her babies at once. Not that he was sentimental in the slightest, because that was clearly ridiculous. He just had a big heart, that was all.

"Did I hear my name?" Kensi breezed in, her arms full of presents. "Oh – just look at the puppies! Aren't they just adorable?"

"You are not getting a puppy, my dear. You've already got more than enough on your plate." After two glasses of egg nog, Hetty was smiling beatifically upon everyone.

"But they're so sweet. Just look at their little faces."

"And just think of Deeks' little face if he finds out what you're thinking." Callen kissed her on both cheeks. "We almost thought you weren't going to make it. And haven't you forgotten something? Or someone?"

"He's still outside, getting everything out of the car. And we're not that late, are we?"

"Only half an hour."

"Half an hour. Wow." Kensi knew exactly what could happen in half an hour – the whole world could change. "That's nothing. In fact, that's almost a record for us. You have no idea – no idea at all."

Joanne put her arm around her waist and hugged her. "I do. I remember it only too well." She heard the sound of footsteps and went to greet the last guest. "Marty – merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas." Deeks looked slightly flustered as he kissed her. "Sorry we're late."

"Are you late? I hardly noticed," Sam said, walking towards him.

"He threw up - just when we'd got him into the car." Deeks looked down at the baby in his arms, who was looked gravely back up at him. "We can't take you anywhere, can we?" There was no disguising the love and pride in his voice.

"Give him to me." Sam reached out and took the baby with practised ease. "And go sit down with your wife while I put this Christmas sweater on him." The hand-knitted garment looked ridiculously tiny in his large hands and Kensi thought that she would definitely save that as a remembrance of their first Christmas as a family.

Before Deeks could do that, a small hand tugged at his sleeve. "Auntie Kensi want a puppy."

"Auntie Kensi's going to have to want, Carina. Because she's got a baby instead."

"Puppies are cuter than babies, Uncle Marty. And you don't have to change their diapers either."

"She's got a point, Deeks. Do you want to swap?" Sam nodded at the two puppies sleeping in a contented heap on Louise's lap.

Deeks finished pulling his reindeer sweater on and shook his head. "He's small, he's incredibly loud and we don't get any sleep. But still –he's ours, so I reckon we'll keep him. What do you say, Kensi?"

"I guess I'm stuck in a house with three males – you, him and Monty. So I'm out-numbered - what can I do?" Kensi sounded highly delighted with her life and even the sweater Nell had just handed her could not dim her pleasure. She was perched on Deeks' knee, watching Sam holding her baby and thinking this was the best Christmas ever.

"You could always get a girl puppy," Carina said and then wondered why everyone burst out laughing.

"Or maybe you could just settle for having a baby niece?" Louise suggested, and then watched as a look of dazed incomprehension crept across Callen's face. She nodded. "It's true – I'm pregnant," and watched as he just gazed at her, for all the world as if she had given him the greatest gift on earth.

Maybe this Christmas they had just started a new tradition? One that would grow, just as their families did.

**THE END**

_Maybe This Christmas lyrics are by Ron Sexsmith._

_And if you have made it this far – thank you for sticking with this story to the end – all 300 pages, and over 150,000 words. Thank you also to everybody who has been reviewing – because each review has truly gladdened my heart_.

_Until the next story – best wishes to you all._


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